


Hollow Minds and Dead Souls

by helens78



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Action/Adventure, First Time, Genre-appropriate gore, Genre-appropriate horror, Genre-appropriate violence, Horror, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Minor Character Death, Road Trips, Telepathic Sex, Villain Character Death, Zombiepocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 02:56:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 54,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Charles and Erik take a portable version of Cerebro out to New Mexico as part of their mutant recruiting trip, they aren't expecting to find out the town's falling victim to an epidemic.  But things are far worse than they seem, because this is no ordinary virus.  Will Charles and Erik find their way home in time to help save the world... from <em>zombies</em>?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of [X-Men Reversebang](http://xmenreversebang.livejournal.com), and was inspired by [BlissfullyBesotted](http://blissfullybesotted.tumblr.com)'s fantastic zombie art! BlissfullyBesotted also contributed a TON of plot ideas and suggestions for moments, and I was so, so thrilled to have a chance to work with her... I loved every second I worked on this project. :D
> 
> Big huge thanks to [Telesilla](http://ao3.org/users/telesilla) and [Cesare](http://ao3.org/users/cesare) for beta-reading. ♥ I couldn't have done it without you!
> 
>   
> [](https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-64kU2k4M5B0/UARhQuifR9I/AAAAAAAADSg/3NlnxRXJftw/s800/blissfullybesotted-zombies-header.jpg)  
> ([Click for full-size](https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-64kU2k4M5B0/UARhQuifR9I/AAAAAAAADSg/3NlnxRXJftw/s800/blissfullybesotted-zombies-header.jpg))
> 
>   
> [](http://helensfic.net/images/blissfullybesotted-zombies-main.jpg)  
> [Click for full size]()  
> 
> 
>   
> **[Artist's Master Post -- go here to like/reblog/leave feedback for the artist!](http://blissfullybesotted.tumblr.com/post/27368671628/hollow-minds-and-dead-souls-written-by-helens78)**  
> 

"This is _extraordinary_ , Hank," Charles said, staring into the open valet case. Unlike a typical piece of luggage, this one was made of reinforced steel; Erik had felt the dense weight of the alloy from down the hall, before they'd gotten to Hank's lab at all.

He'd wondered what Hank could possibly need with a metal suitcase, but seeing its contents was still a bit of a shock. Even Erik could tell what he was looking at; it was all too obvious. The metal skullcap with its collection of wires, wrapped in a flexible coil of steel to keep them from tangling; the control panel, full of dials and switches, about the size of a portable manual typewriter; the coiled, insulated power plug. Everything was tucked neatly into protective padded compartments.

A portable version of Cerebro. As if that damned thing didn't take enough of Charles's time as it was. Erik stood back and crossed his arms over his chest while Charles came forward and ran his hands over the components. "I had no idea it would even be _possible_ to miniaturize Cerebro," Charles marveled, pulling out the smaller version of the headpiece. "I was amazed enough that you'd managed to develop something of the sort at all, given you didn't have a telepath available to test it--"

"And let me say again that I'm not enjoying the notion of having you volunteer your mind for entirely untested technology," Erik cut in. Both Charles and Hank turned to look at him; Hank quickly flinched away from Erik's stern gaze, but Charles simply waited him out. The curious, excited expression on Charles's face hadn't dimmed a bit. "It's one thing to put wings on Sean or attempt to harness Alex's ability with an energy-refocusing apparatus. It's something else entirely to trust your brain to an untested item that," Erik reached into the case with his ability, pulling out the reinforced electrical plug and allowing it to hover in the air, "apparently plugs into a wall outlet."

It was the wrong approach; Charles was beaming all over again. "Hank! You've managed to make this version run on ordinary household voltage?"

"It takes about as much power to run as a vacuum cleaner," Hank said, sounding almost apologetic. "Which is kind of a lot; you need to be careful in places with older wiring."

"Erik can check over the wiring before I plug it in anywhere, that won't be a problem," Charles dismissed. Erik raised an eyebrow at him. "Won't you?"

"If it were up to me, I might not let you use these devices at all. You limp away from each of your sessions, and when you concentrate on only one of us--"

"Usually you," Charles pointed out, "you're involved in this, I'm not doing it all without you--"

"--we're both left with a splitting headache for hours after." Erik glared.

Charles bit his lower lip, finally looking slightly abashed. "I _am_ sorry about that," he said. "But perhaps there'll be less chance of that with this one? Tell us about it," Charles encouraged Hank, and after a quick glance to Erik, Hank stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"Well. As I said, it does run on household voltage. Barring any difficulties with the wiring, you can plug it in to any outlet, and it should work."

Erik raised an eyebrow. "You've said things _should_ work before..."

"A little faith, please," Charles said, reaching out and putting a hand on Erik's shoulder. To Hank he said, "I presume the abilities of this smaller unit are a bit more limited?"

"Yes, definitely. Because of its size and scope, it should only amplify your ability to a range of a few hundred miles. It also isn't meant to interpret and collate the data we get from your brainwaves; it's really there for communication and pinpointing particular mutants' locations. I know you two have lost some time on that in the past; hopefully this will help." He looked at Erik. "And no, it shouldn't have the same painful side effects that the full-scale Cerebro does when focusing on mutants one-to-one."

It was hard to deny that would be a useful advantage; the longer they took assembling allies, the longer it would be before they could force a final confrontation with Shaw. Erik glanced over at Charles, considering.

Charles's face had fallen a bit. "A few hundred miles?"

"Maybe a little more, if you already know where the mutant you're trying to reach is, and if you're focusing purely on reaching that one mind." Hank suddenly looked excited, though, and he added, "While you're on the road this time, you could try using it to get in touch with us here at our home base. You know who and where we are, and I'd certainly be willing to help you test it."

"Ah! That sounds marvelous, Hank, well thought. We'll do that." He turned to Erik. "I think we ought to take this as an opportunity to range further afield. I've found some mutants that feel as though they have tremendous potential in some of the western states-- Arizona, for instance, or New Mexico. I'd love a chance to see what the range on this new little machine is."

"Have the government agents complained about our long-distance telephone bills?" Erik shot Charles a look. "We don't need Cerebro to stay in contact here."

Crestfallen again, Charles took a moment to come up with a reply. "Well, there could always be some sort of widespread power outage. Having a backup plan might be worthwhile..."

Erik grabbed the plug again, holding it up. "A widespread power outage, you said?"

Charles bit down on his lower lip, but Hank was already stepping in. "Actually, that's not a bad idea. I've been theorizing for a while that you," he nodded to Erik, "should be able to generate electric current just by creating an alternating magnetic field. If we..." Erik's skeptical look was beginning to make Hank wilt a bit. "At least, I thought..."

Turning to Hank, Charles nodded encouragingly. "I think it's a perfectly good notion. If you can have a rudimentary dynamo and transformer built for us by the time we leave, I'll see if I can't convince Erik to try it while we're on the road." Erik's stony look had little effect on Charles this time. "Your power has such potential," Charles said, smiling. "Wouldn't you be interested in exerting it for other purposes than simply moving things? Imagine what you could do if you could fully harness magnetic fields. Generating electrical power would be the least of it."

Erik sighed. "Even if you're right, my days of moving things with my ability are hardly over. How heavy is that case, Hank?"

"Um." Hank sealed up the case and set it back down on the floor. "It's not light," he admitted. "I know I have enhanced strength, but I thought between the two of you, you'd manage..."

Charles bent to lift the case and grunted, frowning as he barely got it off the ground. "Erik...?"

Erik lifted it easily-- but not with his muscles. He raised an eyebrow at Hank. "Charming. You've reduced us to being a guinea pig and a pack mule."

"I do think this is going to be useful," Hank tried. Erik set the case down again. "I'll see if I can do anything about the weight while I'm working on the portable power unit."

"Do that, yes, please," Charles said. "How long do you think you'll need?"

"Three days?"

"Two," Erik said firmly. "We'll work out our itinerary in the meantime." He turned to Charles. "If you're so determined to take this on the road and see what happens, there's little reason to delay."

"Fair enough," Charles agreed. "Hank, can you have the modifications done in two days?"

"I think so," Hank said, and then looking at Erik, "yes, two days, yes. I'll just make it my priority."

"Good." Charles clapped Erik on the back. "Come with me, then, we'll look over my list of potential recruits and see if we can find a few we'd like to talk to in person. From there I'll assemble dossiers--"

"The usual routine."

"The usual routine, except with any luck, a bit more rapid on the recruiting end. If we could have three people scouted and found in the space it used to take us to find one..."

"I agree, there are merits, but--" Erik looked back at the portable Cerebro unit. Charles waited; Hank shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

It was Hank who finally broke the silence. "But?"

Erik shook his head. "No. If Charles insists on this--"

"I wouldn't call it _insistence_ per se--"

"--then we're agreed." Erik nodded to Hank. "Two days, then."

Charles took Erik by the arm and steered him out of the laboratory. "I appreciate your concern, but I've been perfectly safe with Cerebro to date. If Hank's right about what this one can do, we really will have quite the advantage. I daresay we'll be able to find mutants three or four times faster than we can with our present methods."

"I'm not claiming that isn't useful."

They'd gone several yards down the hall; he didn't have much excuse for letting Charles retain that hold on his arm. He moved slightly, just enough to slip out of Charles's grip. Charles's expression showed a hint of disappointment for a moment-- just enough to set Erik's pulse racing, wondering what that look _meant_ \-- but soon enough Charles was back to his enthusiastic smile, this one a bit sly. "Then we're agreed. Besides, as helpful as Agent Taine has been, there's something to be said for complete independence, wouldn't you say? We'll be far enough away we really _will_ be on our own."

"It does mean that if we run into anyone unfriendly, we'll be unable to call for help." Erik shot Charles a look. "And I may be used to working on my own, but I seem to recall a few compelling arguments in favor of teamwork..."

"Well, I don't think we ought to count on disaster. And as you pointed out, we'll still have the telephone if we need to contact Hank and Raven and the others, there's no reason to think we'll be cut off entirely. I just think we ought to make the most of it." Charles's tongue swept over his lips in a way that made Erik wonder if he did it on purpose, if he'd pulled _that_ detail out of Erik's mind in the water as well. Just as quickly, the motion was gone, and Erik shook off the momentary distraction. "Let's give ourselves a week out west, and see how it goes."

"No objections here," Erik said. "I presume there's a field office near where we're looking to go; have Agent Taine call and arrange a car for us. We'll need airline tickets to get there in any reasonable amount of time."

"I suppose we could always drive until we're both exhausted, stopping only for food and gas. But it would still take two or three days, and what fun would that be?" Charles lifted his fingers to his temple and smiled. "There. Easily done, he's on it. We'll have a road atlas waiting for us as well, in case we decide to take any detours. Is there anything else we should prepare in the next couple of days?"

"If something comes to mind, I'll tell you," Erik promised. "We'll want some time to pack, and I'm sure Agent MacTaggart will have any number of things she'll want you to do before we go."

Charles gave Erik a sharp look; Erik glanced away. "I've been in touch with Moira, but you really needn't worry about anything there. Perhaps you'd like to spend some more time on the firing range? You have been improving with your speed and reflexes. Soon enough you'll be stopping bullets in midair."

"I'll find a way to occupy myself, I'm sure."

"Two days." Charles was back to smiling. "I'm looking forward to it already."


	2. Chapter 2

New Mexico was dusty and hot, and the trip from the CIA installation to Roswell took all day, starting with a flight from Richmond to Washington, then a second flight to Albuquerque, and finally a third short flight in a propellor plane to Walker Air Force Base. The government agent who met them there directed them to their vehicle, handed off a sheaf of road maps, and then promptly vanished; Charles frowned as he ran off.

"A bit brusque," Erik observed.

"More like distracted," Charles said. "I wonder if there's an emergency..."

"Such as?" Erik glanced around. There was no activity here, and the plane they'd arrived on was refueling to leave. "It doesn't look to me as though there's enough to do here for an emergency to present itself."

"One never knows."

"One _could_ ," Erik pointed out, "if one felt like digging into a government agent's head for the details." He raised an eyebrow, and Charles met his gaze. For a few moments, Charles hesitated, but then he rapped his knuckles on top of the car and shook his head.

"No. They've been looking less and less kindly on my 'magic tricks', even now that we're our own division within the CIA," Charles said. "Interfering here could cause problems in the long run. It _is_ late. Maybe he's simply in a hurry to get home."

"Still. If you're concerned..."

"I'm sure it was nothing," Charles said firmly. "People are distracted constantly, you'd never believe how many random, fleeting, unimportant thoughts the average person has on an average day. And as you said, it's late-- I wouldn't mind getting to our motel, finding a late dinner."

"Agreed. Motel first, though. I'd like a shower before we go anywhere."

Charles nodded, and they were off. It took them half an hour to reach a motel, and when they got there, its parking lot was deserted. "Not as cozy as the sign indicates," Charles said, pointing up at the neon sign that had drawn them here in the first place. _Stay Inn_ , it read. "Apparently no one is."

"Good. The fewer people around, the better." Erik climbed out of the car and headed for the front office alongside Charles. "You'll get a better night's rest if you aren't having to block out a whole motel full of guests."

Charles smiled up at him. "I didn't realize you'd noticed..."

"We've been doing this for three months now; of course I've noticed." Erik waved the door open, and Charles quickly caught it, his focus sharp as he looked to see who might have noticed. No one, it seemed; the only person in the office was a man listening to some sort of news report on the radio. He turned it off as Charles and Erik approached.

"Something I can do for you two?" he asked.

"Ah, yes," Charles said, leaning forward, smiling. "My business associate and I would like a room."

"For the night or for the week?"

"The night, for now," Charles answered. "It might be two or three nights."

"Fine by me. You've pretty much got your pick." The clerk gestured out toward the rest of the hotel. "Full vacancy."

Erik glanced at Charles, then at the clerk. "Is that unusual?"

"For a Wednesday? Not so much. But we get tourists in for the," he rolled his eyes, gesturing at the ceiling, "U.F.O. thing, and it _is_ summer. Normally we'd expect a little more business. Go figure."

"If you've got a first-floor room at the end of the hall, we'll take that," Erik said.

"Room 12." The clerk took a key off the board on the wall and slid it over. "If one of you could just sign the guestbook..."

"I'll do that," Charles said, taking up a pen and filling out the guestbook as Erik watched. "How much?"

"Five dollars a night. It's fifty cents off if you want to book for the whole week."

"Let's start with one night for now," Charles said, taking his wallet out of his pocket and sliding a bill across the counter. "Thanks very much."

He scooped up the key, and led Erik out; a moment to re-park the car, and Erik opened the boot and gathered up their suitcases. Charles looked around again, but Erik wasn't bothering to hide what he was doing-- he simply floated the suitcases along the ground as they walked up to their room, opening the door before Charles could fit the key into the lock.

"You could be a _bit_ subtle," Charles told him.

"For whose benefit?" Erik set the suitcases down near the door, Charles's and his own and the case containing Cerebro. All three had just enough metal to make the lift-and-carry possible, though Cerebro's case was easiest of all. Erik was gentle with it, setting it down lightly. "As he said, we're the only guests, and he couldn't see us from the office. Am I supposed to pretend to be human even when it's the two of us?"

"Of course not." Charles flung the window open, though he drew the sheer drapes closed, affording them a bit more privacy than otherwise. "You're welcome to do as you please around me-- you know that."

"Well. What would please me most at the moment is a shower," Erik said, shrugging out of his jacket. "Unless you'd like to go first?"

Charles shook his head. "No, that's fine. Wait, first--" Charles came back toward the door and tapped his toe against the metal case. "Could you help me get this set up? Hank said we should check the wiring before turning it on..."

Erik sighed. "All right. Where would you be most comfortable?"

Charles nodded at one of the twin beds; there was a reading lamp between them, which meant below it there was a power outlet. "I'm not sure that table," he gestured at the small table, with two somewhat spindly metal chairs to either side of it, "will bear Cerebro's weight. So the bed on the left, please?"

Erik waved a hand; the case floated over to the foot of Charles's bed, unlocked itself, and opened. Charles slipped his tweed jacket off and hung it over the back of one of those chairs; at least they were good for something. Over at the wall, Erik passed a hand down, reaching out for the electrical wiring. He nodded to Charles. "Nothing frayed or damaged. Everything seems to be in good condition. If you blow the fuse, though, it's on your own head."

"Quite," Charles said dryly.

"Yes," Erik sighed. "I'm taking that shower."

"By all means," Charles agreed, cheerful again. He took a seat and reached for the skullcap. As Erik disappeared, Charles was settling it on his head, looking only moderately less ridiculous than he did at the Richmond installation.

A shower did a great deal for Erik's spirits, though he made it quicker than usual. Leaving Charles alone with a portable version of Cerebro hardly seemed like a wise idea. He skipped the shave and toweled off quickly, running a comb through his hair before wrapping the towel around his waist and heading back into the room.

Erik's suitcase was still near the door, where he'd left it; he drew it over to the other bed with another casual gesture. Charles glanced over and then quickly away. He reached for one of the dials on Cerebro's controls, frowning as a white light blinked off and a red one blinked on; after a moment's pause, he reversed the turn. The white light blinked on again.

"Finding anything useful?" Erik asked. There was no point in modesty around Charles; they'd been roommates for most of their excursions, after all, and there was nothing Charles hadn't seen by now. He tugged on a pair of briefs and a lighter pair of trousers, a polo shirt. Belt and watch, socks and shoes managed, he walked around to Charles's bed and sat down on the other side of Cerebro. "Or are you getting it to work at all?"

"I'm not certain. There's some interference..." Charles sighed, switched off the controls, and took the skullcap off his head. He packed everything back into the case and closed it again. "I'll leave it until after dinner. Are you hungry? I'm starved."

"I thought you might be. Are you sure you don't want to clean up first? I'll wait."

"No, it's fine, but let me--" Charles unbuttoned his sweater vest, and, making his way across the room, left it draped over his jacket; he unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows as well. "Better," he declared. But apparently not sufficient. He unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt as well. The flash of skin beneath was enough to show Erik that he was still a bit flushed from the heat. "Shall we?"

"Of course." Erik crooked his fingers at the door, and it swung obligingly open. "After you."


	3. Chapter 3

They'd picked what looked to be the busiest diner in town, but that wasn't saying much, apparently. The waitress was friendly-- Charles complimented her on her dimples, and managed to wrap his tongue around the phrase _zygomaticus major_ in order to do it. It earned him a confused but pleased look, as he'd also said they were pretty.

She had plenty of time to spend around Charles and Erik's table. There were only three other customers: a young couple sharing a milkshake at the counter and an older man reading a newspaper in the back. "It may be a Wednesday night, but still... you'd think there'd be more people here," Charles said. The waitress was near enough by to overhear.

"You know, we've actually had a little flu bug going around," she admitted. "I'm fine, I guess I'm immune or something, but these last two days-- whoo! You'd think it was something in the water. Lord knows. I've been drinking nothing but Coca-Cola ever since I first heard about it, it seems to be doing the trick for me." She winked and nodded down at their plates. "Can I get you anything else?"

Charles and Erik exchanged a look. "No, thank you," Charles said. "I think we're finished."

"I don't think anyone in the restaurant was contagious," Charles said, after they'd settled up the bill and left. "But if there's an epidemic brewing, perhaps that explains the agent at the air force base. Maybe they're discussing whether or not to quarantine the area."

"Much as I'd rather not do any more traveling tonight, that could be a good reason to leave early."

"Without finding our fellow mutant? I'd rather not."

Erik had to concede the point. "Understood. First thing in the morning, then."

"And perhaps I'll make a phone call to the base when we get back to the motel." Charles frowned. "I should have read the agent while I had the chance."

"Too late now. But if you don't get any answers from your phone call, that's another thing we should do in the morning. Get you close enough to read whoever's in command."

"They might just tell me..."

"I wouldn't trust the humans to share any information with us," Erik scoffed. "Particularly not information about epidemics and quarantine. For all we know they brought us here deliberately in order to expose us, in hopes of seeing whether or not mutants are capable of catching whatever it is."

"That doesn't make any sense," Charles admonished him. "We chose to come here. No one chose it for us."

"And it's been going on for the exact length of time we've known we were coming here. You don't find that suspicious?"

" _You_ find nearly _everything_ suspicious."

"It's kept me alive."

Charles sighed. "The timing's too neat. It seems much more likely it's a coincidence."

"Unless the sickness is deliberate. If the government intentionally infected the population here knowing we were coming..."

Charles looked stricken for a moment. "I sincerely doubt anything like that is happening, Erik. As I said, we chose the destination; no one steered us to Roswell..."

"No one steered us away from Roswell, either."

"Yes," Charles murmured. "Still, we should probably call back to Virginia as well, and let the rest of our team know what's happening here."

"In case we do fall ill?"

"It really doesn't seem there's much chance of that. After all, we've hardly seen anyone since we've been here. But I'd like to ensure they're informed."

"You just want an excuse to try using Cerebro to contact Hank."

"Also that." Charles flashed Erik a smile.

Erik opened the car doors for both of them, and they headed back to the motel. Somehow, knowing there was an epidemic going around made the streets seem even emptier than they'd been before-- or maybe they'd been this empty from the start, and it was only now that they were noticing it. By the time they reached the motel, Erik's expression was grim.

"I think we should go," he said firmly, getting out of the car and swinging the doors open. "I think we've been here more than long enough."

"We've still got a mutant to find."

"If he's healthy, I doubt he'll mind leaving here, either. And if he isn't, all the more reason for us to go." Erik set his jaw for a moment. "At least that would tell us if mutants are as susceptible to this as humans are."

"Walker Air Force Base first," Charles insisted. "Then Virginia. And if we get news we don't like, we'll see about finding our fellow mutant and then we'll leave."

"Agreed," Erik said.

They'd nearly reached the motel room door when a figure stumbled out from around the corner. Charles stumbled back a few steps, eyes rounding from shock, and Erik stepped in front of him, feeling out for any metal on the-- man's-- body. Belt buckle, though Erik could barely feel it-- it might have been largely ceramic, he supposed, merely painted to resemble silver. His zipper, but again, almost indiscernible, not that Erik _wanted_ his senses attuned to his zipper. There was a heavy smudge of metal in the man's pocket, and Erik frowned a bit. _That_ , he should have been able to detect, but from here it was hard to tell whether the man had a knife or a set of keys or a pocketful of change.

Erik had no desire to get any closer, but the man shuffled forward another step, groaning.

"Can... we help you?" Charles asked.

"You'd be better off moving along," Erik said quietly. He was still in front of Charles, and if the man made a move for his pocket...

"Erik, for God's sake, he's just down on his luck," Charles said, fortifying himself a bit as he stepped around Erik. Erik frowned at him; Charles ignored it. "There's a diner not far from here. Let me give you something for a meal."

He dug into his pocket and approached the man, who tilted his head up curiously. His clothes were dirty, and his face was a blotchy, terrible color. It looked nothing at all like any sort of vagrancy Erik had seen, or been, over the years. And if 'down on his luck' was what Charles wanted to call it, fine. But if Charles planned on inviting him into his room to clean up-- certainly the smell drifting from the man implied it had been a while since he'd seen a bath-- Erik would quickly put an end to any such thoughts.

Charles attempted to get close enough to hand the man a few coins, but as he approached, he flinched, his hand going to his temple. Erik snagged the coins from Charles with his ability, and dropped them into the man's pocket. To hell with whether anyone knew about Erik's ability; he didn't care to get close enough to the man to risk the man's hands on him.

As the last of the coins dropped into the man's pocket, Erik lost control of one dime, which went rolling along the pavement. Erik frowned-- it had been a long time since anything had slipped from his grasp, let alone a coin, but the hell with it. If the vagrant wanted the dime, he could damned well pick it up himself.

Just now, Erik was much more concerned with Charles. Both of Charles's hands were now at his temples, and he'd gone pale. "Erik...?"

"Leave," Erik snarled. The man merely looked confused; Erik turned and got an arm around Charles's shoulders, quickly getting him inside their motel room.

"Are you all right?" Erik asked, as soon as the door was shut and locked. He closed the windows while he was at it, despite the warmth. The drapes as well. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Charles got out, his voice hoarse. "I've had... difficulties... around the mentally ill before, but..."

"An escaped mental patient?" Erik shook his head. "I'm not sure that would account for his clothes. They seemed normal and fashionable enough, as such things go. If a bit dirty and worn."

Charles shook his head, still massaging his temples. Erik steered him to a bed, and Charles sat heavily. "No, it didn't feel like that, not really. God. I've never felt _anything_ like that." He looked up at Erik. "What was it like for you?"

"No different than any other similar run-in." Except it _had_ been a bit different. That dime, dropped and rolling across the ground... "Nothing that matters."

"Oh?" Charles looked up. "How do you mean?"

"I lost track of one of your coins, while I was putting them in his pocket."

"I may have been distracting you."

"That's no excuse."

"No. I mean--" Charles bit his lower lip and gestured at his temple. "Inadvertently, of course, but... I wanted rather desperately to be away."

Erik sat down beside Charles, near enough to rest a hand on his knee. "I felt my control slip," he admitted quietly. "But whatever happened, I don't believe you were responsible."

Charles took a deep breath and nodded. "I hope not. I would never do something like that to you intentionally, Erik, you _must_ believe that."

"I think it's a mistake to say never, all things considered," Erik responded, as lightly as he could. "I'd just as soon not hear promises from you that can't be kept."

For a few moments, Charles merely looked at him, hurt evident in his eyes. After a moment, he shook his head. "I have every intention of keeping this one," he said quietly. He reached for his temple again, this time to rub at it some more. "God. I'm still aching. I don't suppose you'd be willing to find me an aspirin?"

"Of course." Erik opened Charles's suitcase and took the shaving kit from it; he went to the bathroom for a glass of water, and returned with two tablets and the glass.

Charles swallowed the pills gratefully, setting the water on the bedside table afterwards. "Thank you," he said. "Was there anything else unusual about that man? In terms of your abilities, I mean."

Erik nodded. "The metal on him... it was _vague_ ," Erik grunted. "Normally I have a far better sense of what a man's carrying in his pockets--"

"Do you?" Charles actually managed a smile. "What have I got in my pockets?"

"The hotel key and a rather nice gold-plated pen," Erik said, waving a hand. "And you've still got two pennies in your right pocket, I suppose because you didn't get quite all of it in hand to give away."

"I was a bit distracted," Charles murmured.

"But as for the man outside, I couldn't tell. He had something, but I couldn't sense what." He frowned. "Your headache, my difficulty with metal... does the mutant we were here to find have some ability to disrupt other mutants' powers?"

"No, nothing like that," Charles said. "Enhanced tracking over long distances. What that man was... I don't know. I can tell when someone's a mutant, and he wasn't. He was human." Another quick rub to his temples; Charles shuddered. "I imagine it really was just a form of mental illness I haven't encountered before. I suppose that would account for his... circumstances."

"I suppose," Erik said. "Though it doesn't explain what happened to me."

Charles shrugged. "Something about the area? For all we know there really is alien debris from that supposed U.F.O. in the '50s, and it's causing interference."

"I don't imagine weather balloons would give me any difficulty," Erik said dryly. "Should we still try to get in touch with your contact at the government office?"

"Yes. Yes, absolutely," Charles said, going over to the phone and dialing. His frown deepened, and he pressed the hook button and dialed again. "No answer," he said, hanging up.

"At this hour, maybe we shouldn't have expected there to be."

"I suppose it's possible the office is closed. It's not as though I have a direct line to whoever's in charge at the base."

"You do have a direct line to Agent Taine, though. And Agent MacTaggart."

"And Hank. Let's start there."

"You're not going to try Cerebro after all that, outside...?" Erik put a hand on Cerebro's case, holding it shut.

Charles hesitated, but eventually shook his head, heading to the phone and dialing. "Let's save that for now. We'll call, let everyone know how we're doing, and... I think you may be right about the town. Tomorrow we'll see if we can find our mutant friend, and then we'll head out."

Erik nodded. It took Charles only a few minutes to reach Hank and update him on the situation, and after a moment's pause, Erik could see just from Charles's expression that he was on the phone with Agent MacTaggart instead. If the flirtatious smile hadn't been enough to give him away, the word "darling" coming up more than once would have done the job. He sobered a bit more through their conversation, and then gave Agent MacTaggart their phone number at the motel. After hanging up, he turned back to Erik.

"Moira's heard nothing about an epidemic here, but they also didn't call her to confirm we'd arrived safely and picked up the car-- this was the first she'd heard that we made it here. Apparently she tried to call the base a few hours ago but couldn't get through then, either."

Frowning, Erik crossed his arms over his chest. "Worse and worse."

"I agree entirely." Charles bit his lip, looking down at the Cerebro unit's case again. "I was hoping for a bit more rest, but maybe we'd better consider finding the mutant we're here for sooner, rather than later." He seemed to steel himself, wiping his palms on the front of his trousers. "Open it up. Let's try it."

This time, Erik didn't leave the room while Charles set Cerebro up for use. Instead, Erik sat on the opposite bed and watched Charles intently, keeping an eye on him as he plugged in the portable Cerebro unit, set all the switches and dials to the proper settings, and fitted the metal skullcap onto his head. The control box began to hum, and Charles sighed. "Nothing," he muttered. "Static. Like a radio with no signal..." He switched one of the dials to a different setting, closing his eyes in concentration--

\--and jerked back, eyes flying open, body rigid, face twisting into an expression of horror and disgust. He began dialing switches down, and Erik was instantly at his side, shoving the skullcap off his head the moment the last light on the control box blinked out. Charles was sweating, even from those few moments he'd been trapped in whatever misery that might have been, and Erik brushed his hair back from his face, rubbing gently at his temples. Charles nearly collapsed into his hands, moaning.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. It was like before, but worse. So much worse--" Charles tilted his head back, and slightly to one side, giving Erik better access to his right temple. Erik reached up with his thumb, caressing in small circles. After a few moments, Charles reached up and caught Erik's wrist in his hand. Erik stilled his motions, but Charles looked up at him, brows drawn together. "Please don't stop..."

With a request like that, Erik could hardly refuse. He kept going with the massage, bringing his fingers back into it, moving from Charles's temples to his forehead, sweeping back over the crown of his head and lower, gentle motions, all with Charles's hand still on his wrist.

He'd often imagined doing this for Charles after his sessions with the full-scale Cerebro, but he'd never had the luxury of asking. At least here, he could offer this small comfort, this once.

"Was it the man from outside?" Erik asked, eventually. "Something about his mind that perhaps... drew you in, despite yourself?"

Charles shook his head, taking both of Erik's hands in his as he eased them away from his face. "No. Not him, I would have recognized that-- I'm not sure how to describe the sensation. It was like a stench, but in the _mind_."

"He had plenty of that for the nose as well, believe me," Erik drawled. He took a seat beside Charles and rested a gentle hand on the back of Charles's neck, rubbing there, too. Charles tipped his head forward, letting Erik reach him better. Erik set to work with both hands.

"You must be growing tired of this," Charles murmured. "But it _does_ feel good."

"I'm fine for the time being," Erik promised him. "Can you tell me anything else about what happened with Cerebro? Should we be concerned for our safety?"

"Is it Shaw, you mean. And his telepath." Charles turned, looking up at Erik. "No. I haven't had a sense for him in weeks, you know that. I'd tell you if I did."

"Would you?"

This time when Charles caught Erik's hands, he held onto them. "I'd hope you wouldn't have to ask that question."

"I've promised I'll stay and see this through with you. At least until we find him."

"And after." It was almost a question. Erik hadn't made any promises about afterwards, but Charles kept asking. And asking. "There's so much we can--"

"I think we can leave this talk for another time," Erik said. He turned his hands in Charles's, squeezed lightly. "We've had a long day. Both of us have. If we can get some rest now, we'll be able to go looking for this tracker mutant of yours--"

"--ours, and his name is Daniel--"

"--Daniel, then. In the morning." Erik stood up; to his surprise, Charles stood with him.

"Erik," he said quietly. "I'd tell you if I were to find Shaw. But I'd want to be by your side when you face him. You shouldn't have to do that alone. I don't mean for you to do it alone."

Unable to meet Charles's eyes after that, Erik simply looked away and nodded. Charles clapped him on the arm and headed for the bathroom. "You had your shower earlier, I trust you won't mind if I have mine now?"

"No," Erik said, and Charles disappeared, closing the door very quietly behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

Erik woke at the break of dawn. He'd learned over the time they'd been traveling together that Charles didn't wake easily in the morning, which was just as well for Erik, who did. Charles was more likely to have a restful end to the night's sleep if Erik could keep his thoughts relatively calm for a while after waking, so Erik had trained himself to keep his mind as blank as possible until Charles began to stir.

This morning, Charles wasn't sleeping restfully at all, and Erik's thoughts quickly became anything but blank. He slipped out from under the covers and went over to Charles's side, putting a hand on his shoulder. Charles was lying on his side, facing away from the window-- facing toward Erik. His hands were tight fists at his temples, as though he were trying to block out thoughts by force.

"Charles," Erik said, shaking him gently. "Charles, you're dreaming."

"I'm not," Charles answered, eyes still shut. "I can hear-- things. It's gotten worse."

"Worse than Cerebro, or worse than the man outside?"

"The man outside. It's not him, he isn't back, but... I feel things, I _hear_ things. It isn't as awful as having Cerebro on, but..." Charles reached out blindly, one arm going to Erik's arm. "You're awake now. It's better. It's much better. Your mind--"

"We've talked about that."

"I'm not reading you," Charles snapped. Erik pulled away from him immediately. "I know you wouldn't welcome that, so I haven't been reading your thoughts, but God, Erik, just to _feel_ a mind that isn't..."

"Isn't what?"

Charles's eyes opened, red and bleary from his lack of sleep. "Isn't ill," he said. "It's such a damned relief to feel a mind that isn't _ill_."

"Apparently your bar for that isn't very high right now."

Charles let out an exasperated sound. "Whatever you may think of your mind, Erik, I can tell you through _profound_ experience that there is nothing wrong with you. You bear a great many hurts and scars, but you yourself-- you're not a madman, you're not a sociopath, and you are _not_ \-- whatever's out there."

Erik knew he was staring; he couldn't help it. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he owed Charles a piece of gratitude for all of that, but there was no possible way he could find words for it now.

Instead, he took a breath to get his bearings again, and asked, "What _is_ out there?"

"I don't know. I don't know, but Erik, whatever this sickness is, it's affecting people's minds. And a great many people. The man from last night... I think he was only the first of them."

"Are you awake enough to dress?"

Charles's laugh had no humor to it. "I've been awake for hours."

"Then do it. I'll do the same, and we'll pack and get ourselves on the road."

"The other mutant..."

"We'll look him up the old-fashioned way. Is there a phone book in the drawer, here? If not, we'll find one once we've checked out of the room. If the illness is as widespread as it's been looking to be, it seems likely he'll be at home, don't you think?"

With an effort, Charles pushed himself up to sitting. "Yes," he said. He ran both hands through his hair. "Yes, I _do_ think."

"There isn't much to pack. If you'd like, you can get started on that while I wash up."

"I will." Charles looked up at him. "Erik-- thank you." Charles was as pale as Erik had ever seen him. "I don't know what I'd do if you weren't--"

Erik leaned down, just a little, to look Charles carefully in the eyes. If this illness was as serious as it seemed... if it was contagious... if _Charles_...

No. Erik had kept last night's vagrant away from them; he hadn't laid hands on either of them. Erik was fine. If Charles was suffering from anything, it was merely the effects of a terrible night's sleep and the misery of so many ill minds around them. Charles looked healthy. Just tired.

"You're not alone, either," Erik said gruffly, heading to his suitcase for clothes and then quickly shutting himself in the bathroom. _You're not alone. And you won't be, if I have anything to say about it._

Maybe Charles could hear that, maybe not. If he still wasn't reading Erik's thoughts, then so much the better; during the time they'd known one another, Erik had had... any number of thoughts about Charles that he wouldn't want overheard.

In any case, after a quick pass through his morning routine, after he'd gotten dressed, Erik came out of the bathroom to find nearly everything ready to go, including Charles. "I've got the address from the phone book," Charles said. "I looked it up on the road map; it isn't far. And nearly everything's packed."

"Good." Erik went to his suitcase, added last night's pajamas and his shaving kit to it, and zipped it back up. Once that had been accomplished, he stole a glance up at Charles. Charles looked better; he was neatly dressed, standing stiffly, looking down at Cerebro in its case. He'd coiled the power cord and packed everything away, but he hadn't closed or locked the suitcase yet.

"Not this morning," Erik said, lifting a hand and closing the case. It felt heavier than it had yesterday; perhaps he'd needed more sleep than he'd gotten, too. "Maybe later, if you're feeling up to it." _If you must._ "Let's take these to the car."

Charles hesitated a bit going out the door, but once Erik had stepped outside, Charles followed on his heels. He helped Erik put the suitcases into the boot-- and after that short distance, Erik was certain. Cerebro's case was definitely heavier today than it had been yesterday. Erik frowned, closing his eyes for a moment and feeling all around him for metal: the car, the door, the structure of the building, Charles's clothes, his own, the key in Charles's pocket... nothing was missing, everything was there, but there was a shade over it, somehow. It felt as though there were a layer of gauze between him and all the metal he ought to have been feeling.

"Is everything all right?" Charles asked, reaching out and settling his hand on the small of Erik's back. "You look... troubled."

"We're neither one of us doing very well. Let's settle up with the front office and see if we can find the other mutant."

Charles nodded, but when they made it to the front office, it was empty. The door was open, the windows as well... the radio was on, but it was playing nothing but static. Erik reached out with his power and cranked the dial, and the radio did turn off... but the dial snapped free, rolling onto the desk and then off, over the side of it.

"You overdid it," Charles said, looking up at Erik with one eyebrow raised. "We're _neither one of us_ doing all right...?"

Erik scowled. "There's a bell," he said, heading for the desk. He rang the bell a few times-- by hand, as irritating as that was-- but when no one had appeared after a few minutes, he shook his head. "I don't think anyone's here."

"Well, we're paid through the night; I'll just leave the key here with a note." Charles walked around to the other side of the desk and rummaged in a drawer for a pen and a piece of paper; he scribbled out a quick note with their regrets that their stay couldn't have been longer, and left the key on top of it. "There. Let's--"

The door opened, just then, and the clerk from the previous night shuffled in. His gait was unsteady, and he'd apparently met with some kind of accident overnight; his skin was a mottled pale purple, and there was a dark red scab on his arm. Erik glanced over at Charles, who had gone stark white, and was now leaning heavily on the desk, one hand up to his temple.

"Charles," Erik said. "Charles, look at me."

He wasn't. He was staring at the clerk, who was coming closer and closer to him with every agonizingly slow step.

" _Charles._ "

Still riveted to the motion of the clerk, Charles didn't respond. Erik grabbed Charles by the arm, pulling him out from behind the desk, giving the clerk a wide berth. The clerk hesitated for a moment, perhaps confused, but after a brief pause, he stopped trying to get to Charles and instead shuffled toward the desk itself.

Charles was leaning on Erik now, as heavily as he'd been leaning on the desk. He watched the clerk make his way around the desk, where he sat down and held up the note Charles had left for him.

"That's," Charles stammered, "that's us, we're-- we're going now--"

"He's sick, Charles, and he isn't hearing you. Whatever this is, it's affecting people's minds-- you said that this morning." Erik slipped his arm around Charles's waist and squeezed. "Come on. _Now._ "

"Yes," Charles whispered. When Erik tugged him out the door, Charles followed, still depending on Erik to keep him upright. Erik opened the doors of their car-- something that had taken no effort at all last night and was taking a great deal of focus now-- and settled Charles inside, closing the door up manually afterwards. He came around to the other side and got in, immediately reaching for Charles, sliding a hand onto his shoulder.

"Charles. Are you all right?"

"No, I'm not," Charles whispered, both hands coming up to his temples. "Get on Main Street, Erik, and take a left on 23rd Street. Daniel's house isn't far, and I want to get out of here as quickly as we can."

"You won't get any argument from me," Erik said grimly. He started the car and steered them out of the motel parking lot.

Everything was as deserted as it had been last night; it took no time at all to find Daniel's neighborhood, his house. The town looked even more ominous in a residential area; many of the houses had their doors wide open, and there was a car up on the sidewalk in front of one house, its driver's-side door open, the driver unconscious and tipped half out of his seat.

"Is he...?"

"Ill," Charles gritted out, "not dead. I don't _think_. God." He rubbed at his forehead. "Erik, they're... I can feel them. Everywhere. All around us." He looked around at the houses, his eyes going rounder and rounder, his face paler and paler. "All these minds..."

Erik put a hand on the back of Charles's neck and squeezed gently. "What can I do?"

Charles closed his eyes and sagged towards Erik. "Just be here. Let me feel you. Please."

"I'm here." Erik stroked down between Charles's shoulderblades. "I won't leave you."

Charles turned, fully, and faced Erik on the bench seat. "If I were a weaker man I'd hold you to that, even when all this is over." But he precluded any chance that Erik might respond when he tipped forward, leaning against Erik's shoulder. "I just need a moment. Please. Just... a moment, with your mind blotting out all the others..." He turned his face and pressed it against the side of Erik's neck, breathing in deeply. Erik had a moment of being inanely grateful he'd bothered to shave-- Charles hadn't-- and ended up wrapping both arms around Charles, holding on to him.

"I'm here," Erik whispered. "It's going to be all right, Charles. Whatever this is, it's going to be all right. We'll get back to Virginia, to the others. We'll be fine."

Charles almost laughed as he drew back. "Thank you," he said, reaching up, pressing his hand to Erik's cheek. "I know that sort of optimism doesn't come easily to you. I'm glad you're starting to feel it now. Even under the circumstances."

"Under the circumstances, one of us should." Erik was indulging himself too much with all this, and he knew that only too well, but he still didn't stop himself from stroking Charles's hair. "The house is just there. Can you make it inside?"

"Yes," Charles said. He pulled away from Erik-- Erik tried not to regret that; he understood the necessity-- and sat up, visibly steeling himself. "If he's not sick, we'll take him with us. And if he is sick..."

"If he is?"

"Then there's nothing we can do for him here," Charles said grimly, and he shoved out of the car.

 _Under the circumstances, one of us should be optimistic,_ Erik thought again. But Charles was right; they were neither one of them pathologists, and even with Charles's knowledge about genetics, they had no access to a lab. And Erik wasn't going to take someone with them if he had the same effect on Charles that the rest of these ill minds did. Charles took priority.

Erik followed Charles to the door, where Charles had already rung the doorbell and begun to knock. He was looking from side to side, his eyes moving uncomfortably from the door to the houses neighboring Daniel's. Erik wondered if there were sick people in both those houses-- Charles's nervous attitude certainly implied as much-- and if so, what they'd find in Daniel's home.

He stretched out his awareness, checking once again for the metal on his person, on Charles's body. On the two of them, everything seemed normal, but it only took a few steps for his power to fade. Everything more than ten feet away was little more than vague smudges of metal. It left Erik feeling unsettled, as though a part of himself were lost. And if things were this bad for him, no wonder Charles was behaving the way he was, with his power all seated in his mind.

Charles kept knocking at the door. "Daniel? Are you home? Will you let us in, please?" There was no answer. "Daniel?"

"Can you sense his mind?" Erik asked. "Is he ill?"

"I don't know." Charles stepped away from the door and nodded down at the lock. "Can you do something about that?"

"Let me get a little closer." Erik pushed past Charles, but Charles gave him very little space; he crowded in behind Erik, as if unwilling to be any closer to the street than he had to.

There were two locks on this door, one in the doorknob and one in the deadbolt. There was also a sliding bar lock, which was the easiest to overcome; from this side of the door, Erik simply turned the bar and slipped it out of its slot.

"Erik," Charles whispered, his hands coming up-- one on Erik's shoulder, the other digging tightly into his arm. "Erik, if you would please hurry--"

Erik turned. Behind them, there were three different people stumbling down the street. One was inspecting their borrowed car, one was walking away from them, but one... one was coming towards them, and Erik turned his attention rapidly back to the lock.

"They're all so... they're so grey, in the sunlight they look almost... oh, God." Charles's grip on Erik's arm tightened. "That's the waitress from last night. The one who said she was drinking Coca-Cola to avoid the water..."

"So much for immunity."

Charles let out a wheezing sort of not-laugh. "Erik, get us inside. Get us inside _now_."

"I am," Erik growled. "Try and stay calm." Thankfully, the lock came obligingly undone once Erik set to work on it, and Erik swung the door open. "Daniel?"

Charles shoved Erik inside, following on his heels, slamming the door shut behind him. He fumbled with the locks, twisting all three into place. "God," he was still mumbling, "God, what _is_ this, what _caused_ this..."

"One thing at a time." Erik took Charles's hand. "Can you feel Daniel?"

"Upstairs," Charles said, and Erik tugged him up the staircase.

They'd gotten nearly to a bedroom when Charles suddenly recoiled, pulling his hand out of Erik's grip. "No," Charles whispered. If it were possible for him to go even more pale, he had; the freckles on the bridge of his nose were standing out more than usual, his lips red and swollen from the way he'd been biting them-- and if there were a more inappropriate time for Erik to feel that tug toward Charles he'd been feeling all this time, Erik couldn't imagine one.

"What's the matter?"

"He has it, too. It's in its early stages, his mind's almost what it ought to be, but that scent of _death_ on him--"

"Death?" Erik stared at Charles. "None of these people are dead, Charles, not yet. If it's in the early stages, perhaps there's some cure--" But he'd thought that already, and they were by no means equipped to find one. "Charles?"

Charles was shaking his head. "No, Erik. That _is_ what it feels like, whether they're moving around or not. All these minds-- it isn't that they only feel ill. They feel _dead_ , but somehow... animated."

"You're talking nonsense," Erik insisted, reaching out and taking Charles's arms in his hands, leaning him gently against the wall. "I understand these minds have been a shock to you, but _think_ , Charles. If it were only that, if they were only-- reanimated dead, somehow--" Even saying it brought a chill up his spine. "Then perhaps that would explain why their minds feel so disturbing. But why would they affect _my_ abilities?"

"I don't know," Charles said. He leaned in against Erik, one hand coming up to the back of Erik's neck. His hand felt cool, his skin clammy. "You're here, though. You're healthy."

"Yes."

"Maybe we shouldn't go to see him. Maybe we'd be better off just going--"

"Charles." Erik took Charles by the hips and eased him back gently. "That doesn't sound like you."

"If this sickness is contagious-- if it affected _you_ \--" Charles's hand slipped from the back of Erik's neck to his shoulder, and down onto his chest. "Erik, I couldn't bear that."

"It's not going to affect me," Erik promised. "We won't get near him, if he's truly sick. But he might know what this is, what's happening. It's worth staying here a few minutes to find out if there are answers."

Charles nodded and seemed to fortify himself, his hand tightening in the fabric of Erik's shirt. "All right," he whispered. "All right. We'll see what he has to say. Come on."

The bedroom door was open; as soon as they stepped inside, Erik could smell it. Illness. Disease. Death. He was all too familiar with them; sometimes he wasn't sure that the stink of those things had ever truly left him. But here and now, the reek was coming from one man: a man with a sickly grey pallor, skin blotched with pale purple patches, lying in a bed, wheezing.

"Daniel Callow?" Charles whispered. There was no response from the man on the bed.

Erik took a step forward, raising his voice. "Are you Daniel Callow?"

The head turned, the eyes sunken as they swiveled to fix on Erik and Charles. The irises were an unnatural pale blue, as though the pigment in them had been leached away. When the man opened his mouth to talk, his teeth were clearly rotted. Whatever this disease was, it left the impression of death in its wake-- Charles was right about that.

The man on the bed opened his mouth. A faint rasp came out, but within that sound, Erik thought he heard a word: " _Yes._ "

Charles clutched at Erik's arm. "My God," he whispered. "What... what happened here...?"

Daniel looked from one of them to the other. His face didn't move, his eyebrows seemed fixed in place, but he tilted his head questioningly. "Who..."

It seemed absurd to introduce himself as he had with so many other mutants these past few months, but Erik couldn't think what else to say. "My name is Erik Lehnsherr. This is my associate..."

"Charles Xavier," Charles managed. "We're like you, Daniel. Or... we were..." Charles put a hand to his head. "God, Erik, it _hurts_..."

"Come here," Erik murmured, reaching out and putting an arm around Charles's waist. Charles leaned against him, head pressed to Erik's shoulder once again.

"Like..." It took a considerable amount of effort for Daniel to get out even one word at a time. "...Me...?"

"We're mutants, Daniel. Charles can read minds. I can move metal." Though Erik could only wonder how much of that either one of them could do at this moment. He felt a little stronger around Daniel than he had around the others, but that might simply mean he was growing accustomed to this lower level of ability. He hoped that wasn't true. "Charles told me you could track."

Daniel nodded-- or tried to. His head tilted down, but after that, it seemed impossible for him to move it back up. Eventually, he succeded, but it was a long time coming. "Track," he said. "Mu... tants..."

"Can you tell us what's happened here?"

Several gasps in a row, then; Daniel collapsed back on the bed. "Ar... arrest... arrested," he said.

"You were arrested?"

"Yeh... _yeh_..."

"Yes." Erik glanced down at Charles. "Charles. This is going very slowly..."

"Time," Daniel panted. "Go. _Go._ "

Charles reached up, clutching at Erik's shirt. "Please," he whispered.

Erik wrapped both arms around Charles, holding on. "I'm sorry," he breathed, against Charles's hair. "I'm sorry to ask, but this is much more serious than we realized. You said he felt as if he was in the early stages--"

"But _look at him_ ," Charles forced out. "Erik, his mind-- it hurts to be in the same room with him. If I touch his mind..."

"Can you?" Erik eased Charles back, looked into his eyes. "If you can't, then we'll get what we can from him and go. But if you can..."

Charles swallowed, his eyes wet. "I don't want to," he whispered. "But I believe I can."

"I'll be here with you the entire time," Erik promised. "I'm right here. I won't let anything happen to you."

"With all due respect, my friend," Charles said, turning to face Daniel, grimacing as he lifted his hand to his temple, "you can't know that right now."

Erik took Charles's hand and squeezed it, and Charles squeezed back. And then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath--

On the bed, Daniel shook. His body convulsed, and Charles nearly doubled over, gasping. Erik got his arms around Charles again, holding him upright, and Charles leaned on him, the shock of telepathy passing _through_ Erik, all the things Charles was seeing in Daniel Callow's mind passed directly into Erik's memories, too.

_Arrested. They'd come for him at work. Daniel worked in a tourist office; he gave guided tours of the area. None of the men who'd come for him wore uniforms. All of them were in black suits. They'd put him in a car and taken him to the base, where they'd put him in a room, by himself, no food, no water, no phone call, no windows, no people. He'd been left there for hours, not long enough to truly grow hungry, but enough for him to be afraid of what they wanted from him. When they'd opened the door and given him a meal, water, they'd had a proposal._

_"We know what you are, Daniel. We know you've been hiding among the normal people all your life. But we won't expose you for a freak-- in fact, you'll never see us again-- if you just do us one favor. Will you do that?"_

Even in memory, Erik could see he'd had no choice. He held onto Charles, waded through the rest of the story alongside him.

_The injections-- there were three-- were the most painful experience of Daniel's life. He was woozy after the first, terrified after the second-- but after the third, he flew into a rage, or a panic, something. Adrenaline shot through him, and he launched himself at one of the medical technicians, clawing at him, biting him..._

_"Everyone all right?"_

_"Fine. Goddamnit. You said he'd be restrained..."_

_"He_ was _restrained!"_

_"Is Z-03813 transmissible to humans?"_

_"No. In all our laboratory tests, we've found that it's completely harmless to humans."_

_"Good. I'll get cleaned up; you people take him home."_

Harmless to humans. Only not. Surely not. The people outside-- they were human, once. Erik steadied Charles again, holding on tightly. "We're almost through," he whispered. "Get the rest."

_Daniel hadn't left the house. He'd been too weak. His sense of direction was gone; he'd felt lost, terrified of forgetting the way from the bedroom to the kitchen, the way from the kitchen to the bathroom. He wasn't hungry, nor thirsty. How long had it been? Hours, since they'd left him here? The clock read eight, then nine, then ten. It was light out. Was it only the next morning?_

_Sometime that day: a visit, men bundled up in protective gear, masks over their faces. The shock and terror as they saw what was happening to him. A rapid exit, all of them leaving as quickly as they could, with no comfort, no answers. He couldn't call out; his voice failed, he could hardly breathe..._

_He'd tried to turn on the radio, to listen to the news. A minor flu outbreak. Later that day, an update: a not-so-minor outbreak. His fault,_ his fault _\-- if he hadn't attacked the technician-- if he'd kept his hands to himself... another day, he thought. Another night. Last night. The reports grew more alarmed. The radio was nothing but static. What was happening...?_

Daniel was gasping for air, over and over, and Charles was trying to pull away from his mind. He couldn't; Erik could see his eyes rolled back in his head, his lashes fluttering. But then Daniel choked-- on what, Erik didn't care to know-- and went still, and Charles's knees buckled, his hand falling away from his temple.

"Is he dead?" Erik asked. He took a step closer; Charles scrambled to grab him and pull him back.

"No. No, he's not, but there's nothing I can do for him here. My God, Erik, these people. All these people..."

Erik pulled Charles close, stroking his back again and again. Charles shuddered against his chest, staying there until he began to get hold of himself once more.

"Erik," Charles breathed, pulling back, wiping at his eyes impatiently with the back of his hand. "Erik, it _was_ meant for us. This disease, everyone in this town--"

"They let us come here anyway." Erik's hands were trembling with rage. "Even with the disease running rampant through the human population as well as the mutants--"

"Mutant," Charles corrected, still pale, sweating a little from the exertion it had taken to read Daniel's thoughts. "There's only him. And it was so _fast_. I doubt anyone knew until it was too late. It was never supposed to look like this in mutants."

"Wasn't it?"

"No. From the looks on the faces when they came back to check on him? No. I don't know what they wanted, but..." A laugh bubbled out of Charles's throat, nearly a hysterical one. "Not this. God help us all, not this."

"We have to go. We have to get out. If this is an airborne disease--"

"I don't think so, not from all the evidence in his mind." Charles put his hand over his mouth, closing his eyes for a moment as though he were going to be sick. "His mind. Oh, God, Erik, I never want to touch a mind like that again."

"I don't want you to have to, either. That's why we have to go. _Now._ "

"All right. All right, yes."

Outside the house, they came to a sudden halt. There were... people, if that was still the right term for it. Before, there'd been only three. Now there were seven. All of them were converging on the house, blocking the path between them and their car.

Charles took a deep breath and cringed behind Erik; Erik slammed the door shut again and headed into the house.

"Erik...?"

"We're unarmed, Charles. I need weapons."

He strode into the kitchen, yanking out drawer after drawer until-- _yes_. Stainless steel, a full eight-person setting's worth. Knives. Forks. Spoons. There was a knife block as well; Erik grabbed the entire block and thrust it into Charles's arms, grabbing up the silverware himself, thrusting as much of the contents as he could into his inner jacket pockets and holding the rest in his hand.

"There," Erik growled. " _Now_ we're armed."

Charles managed a wan smile; Erik headed for the door and flung it open. His ability might have been less than it should have been, but it was enough for this, especially with adrenaline pumping through his system. The monsters at the government base had gone to _war_ with mutants; these people were their _army_.

He flung the first knife, burying it in the body of the nearest... creature. The creature-- perhaps he'd once been a businessman of some sort, he was still in a suit-- pitched immediately sideways, and didn't have enough balance to prevent falling to the ground. Whatever they were, they weren't agile, and they weren't fast. _Good._

"Come on!"

The knives were the easiest to throw; Erik spent five of them getting to the car. He managed to fling the doors open for both of them, and as soon as he and Charles were inside, slammed the doors shut and locked them. He started the engine, letting it roar to life, and peeled away from the curb with the sound of squealing rubber. If the creatures got out of his way, then they did; if not, he wouldn't hesitate to run them over. This was war, and all that mattered now was getting himself and Charles to safety.


	5. Chapter 5

Getting out of town had the benefit of leaving most of the population behind. Unfortunately, it also meant running into government interference. It surprised Erik not at all that the road leading out of town had been barricaded; as they approached, Charles put both hands on the dashboard and gulped in a few deep breaths.

"Human. They're still human. I can do this, Erik."

"I have every amount of faith in you," Erik said, but he gathered up a lapful of forks and spoons anyway, looking around, feeling out for the weapons these men were holding. They looked to be members of the national guard, or perhaps from some branch of the military no one knew about; Erik wouldn't be surprised if the United States government had some sort of specialized soldiers hidden somewhere. They'd been quick enough to recruit mutants, after all. "How many are there?"

"Six here. They have radios. I'm going to need to do this quickly."

"I can take out the radios," Erik offered. He was already feeling for the metal casings as he pulled to a halt.

"No," Charles hissed. He brought his fingers to his temple and rolled down his window. The guardsman who'd been heading for Erik's side of the car quickly diverted paths and went to Charles.

"You've seen my identification, you have orders to let me through."

"Yes, sir," the guardsman snapped. He straightened and gave a hand signal to the others. One of them frowned and took a step forward, and Charles bit down hard on his lower lip and focused on him next. He stepped out of Erik's way, and three guards moved the sawhorse barricade out of the car's path. Once that was done, they all lined up along the side of the road, all moving stiffly, all in unison.

 _Six._ Six at once. It was more power than Erik had realized Charles possessed.

"Drive very carefully," Charles murmured. "Don't speed up for a while. I need a little more time in each of their minds to be _certain_ they won't remember us."

"Understood," Erik said. He drove slowly past the guards, and Charles held his breath as they passed. Once they were past the barricade, Charles slumped back in his seat, both hands to his head as he caught his breath. "Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine," Charles said. "Now that we're out of there, I'll be fine. Don't spare the petrol, now. We need to get back to Albuquerque; we need a flight home."


	6. Chapter 6

It was one thing to say 'don't spare the petrol'; unfortunately, fuel became a problem rather earlier than Albuquerque.

And more of a problem than they'd anticipated. The filling stations along U.S. 285 were abandoned, over and over, until Erik exchanged a glance with Charles and asked, "You don't suppose...?"

"That it escaped quarantine? My God." Charles shivered. "Pull in at the next filling station, whether it's open or not. Maybe we'll be able to find a clue about what's going on." He turned to the radio, switching it on, trying to tune something in. "There might be a news broadcast-- there, do you hear that? Something?"

It was mostly static, but Erik could hear someone speaking, well below the background noise. He reached down to the dial himself, his focus moving to the antenna, the electrical conductor, making minute changes until the signal was as clear as he could make it. Charles looked over at him. "That's marvelous, Erik, how useful-- I had no idea you could do that. But I should have, of course-- the tiniest variation in the metal would have a profound impact on--"

"Shh." Erik nodded down at the radio. "Charles, _listen_."

The radio's signal was faint but clearly audible now. "GOVERNOR MECHEM HAS ISSUED A STATE OF EMERGENCY FOR ALL COUNTIES IN THE STATE OF NEW MEXICO," the broadcaster said. "ALL PEOPLE ARE ADVISED TO STAY INSIDE THEIR HOMES UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. THE 'WALKING FLU' EPIDEMIC HAS BEEN IDENTIFIED IN ROSWELL, ALBUQUERQUE, SANTA FE..."

The list went on. Erik sat back; the radio signal faded to obscurity again. Charles stared out the windshield, going pale.

"How?" he whispered. "So quickly... _how_...?"

"Travelers," Erik suggested. "Or deliberate infection."

"No. The government didn't plan for this to happen."

" _Some_ people in the government didn't plan for this to happen. You're right about a filling station, abandoned or not."

" _Preferably_ abandoned." Charles shuddered. "If we stay on the major roads, there won't be many people, surely... everyone ought to have gone home by now. Other travelers... I haven't felt any, and I hadn't thought much of it, but now... how far do you think this has gone?"

"If we can find a working telephone, we can call back to Richmond and see if they've heard anything there. If the entire state of New Mexico's under... quarantine, or whatever that 'state of emergency' meant, then surely they'll know something. If nothing else, which states are still safe to travel through."

"You don't really think it could have gone through _states_..."

"I don't know. But we went from a functioning town, if a subdued one, to an entire state under siege, overnight. Whatever this is, it spreads fast."

"Agreed. And God, I wish it didn't." Charles rubbed at his forehead. "Let's hope the next filling station isn't too much further. How much petrol do you have in the tank?"

"Not enough." Erik grimaced. "But I suppose we'll have to hope our luck holds out."

"Our _luck_?"

"So far, you and I aren't infected. That's more than you can say for nearly everyone else in Roswell."

Charles stared out the windshield, nodding. " _That_ luck had _better_ hold out. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you."

"Survive," Erik snapped. "Get back to Richmond. Find the others, and figure out a way to fix this."

"I wouldn't leave you."

"If the only other choice were becoming infected yourself--"

"That will _never_ be my only other choice." Charles glared over at Erik. "We are both getting through this. _Both_ of us. Do you hear me?"

Erik's eyes were sharp on the road, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. "I know that I'll do whatever it takes to protect you."

Charles let out a slow breath. "Erik-- there's a conversation I think we've been needing to have for some time now--"

"It can wait."

"I'm not certain it can."

Erik pointed ahead. "It's going to have to. There's a filling station ahead--" and a town, it looked like, a tiny one, but still one that ran the risk of having people in it. They were still on the outskirts for now, but this was the best they were likely to do for the time being. "Better here than later, I think."

Charles's attention was focused on the town, his pallor going grey again. "Yes. All right."

"Do you feel anyone nearby...?"

"Any _thing_ ," Charles muttered, but he clenched his jaw and pushed his fingers hard against his temple. Immediately he recoiled, nodding. "Two inside the building, I think."

"Two." Even in the outskirts of a tiny town, in the middle of nowhere. It was anything but encouraging.

Charles hesitated, then pressed his fingers to his temple again. "Two," he gasped, his hand falling away, his head dropping forward. "Only two."

It was two more than Erik wanted to encounter. Still, they were this close to running on fumes; Erik pulled in anyway, grabbing up a handful of silverware and shoving out of the car. The pumps were still working; abandoned or not, this station still had power.

He looked over at the building as he finished refueling. There was a phone booth just outside it-- a shiny, new one, by the look of it. "Charles?"

"Yes?"

Erik reached in through the window, resting his hand on Charles's shoulder. "There's a phone. If it's new enough to have direct-dialed long-distance..."

"If," Charles said, clutching at Erik's hand. "No. If it doesn't, you'll need an operator to connect you, and even if there's someone out there operating the switchboard, the time it would take to connect you..."

"If it takes longer than a few minutes, we'll try again elsewhere."

" _Minutes._ You won't have that long. As soon as those two beings know we're here..."

"They haven't come after us yet, and we've not exactly been quiet."

"Maybe not, but if it takes _proximity_ \--" Charles grabbed Erik's hand in both of his. "Two of them, Erik, two dead minds. I don't want them near you."

"I don't want them near me, either, but we're blind here. You of all people should know the power of information..."

"It won't be any use to us if we're like _them_ ," Charles hissed, his fingers tight on Erik's wrist.

Erik carefully pried Charles's hand loose from his wrist. "We're prepared this time," he said. "We're armed. There are only two of them. And I'm not letting anything happen to you."

"We could pull the car up, closer."

Erik glanced over. "It's a good idea," he admitted. "Let's do that."

"And if there's a tire iron in the boot--"

"There's a lug wrench and a crowbar. They'll work."

Charles managed a weak smile. "Your ability. It's back? You're not having any difficulty sensing things?"

"I've had an hour and a half's drive to feel every metallic item in this car." Erik glanced over at the building. "I did all right at Callow's house in Roswell. Let's see if we can manage this."

He opened the boot, grabbed up lug wrench and crowbar, and tossed them into the front seat beside Charles. Charles grabbed up the crowbar in both hands, looking at the building, swallowing huge gulps of air. Erik got in, started the car, and kept the engine running as he parked beside the phone booth.

The phone was still working; Erik was relieved to hear a dial tone. But attempting to dial the Richmond number got Erik a stuttered tone and a click. He pressed the lever and tried again, with the same results. An operator, then. He pulled the dial around, listening to the ten soft clicks as it rotated back into place.

"Erik," Charles called out. He was staring through the windshield, the crowbar shaking in his hands.

Erik stepped as far out of the phone booth as he could and looked toward the building. The phone was dialing, but the operator wasn't answering. There was a smell coming to him on the wind...

" _Erik._ " Charles dropped the crowbar, his hands coming to his head again. "Erik, we have to go. We have to go _now_."

Two creatures shambled out of the building, one agonizing step at a time. The bell on the door chimed incongruously, announcing their presence with a soft melodic tinkle. The phone was still ringing, but nothing, _nothing_...

"Erik," Charles called out. "Erik, now, now, _now_ \--"

The creatures reached the front of the car, one of them stumbling into the front bumper. The operator finally picked up, and with a groan unlike anything human, said, " _Loooohhh?_ "

Erik dropped the handset and dove for the car, getting in, slamming the door shut. Charles grabbed at his sleeve. "They aren't thinking. They aren't even human anymore. Their minds are... they're _dark_ , Erik, _rotten_. Just having them _nearby_ is like touching something foul, something that won't come clean no matter what..."

"We're going," Erik promised, shoving the car into reverse and peeling backwards, to the far end of the lot. The creature that had fallen against the front bumper tipped over onto the ground; as Erik shifted into first gear and drove off, he could see in the rearview mirror that it hadn't managed to right itself before they were out of sight altogether. "Charles? _Charles_ , it's all right, we're gone, we're _done_ \--"

Soft, near-hysterical laughter came from the passenger seat. "Close," Charles got out, "too close, oh God, they _felt_ us, I could sense them _feeling_ us. They were..." He covered his mouth with one hand. "As soon as they saw us they were _tracking_ us. Like a ghost of a mutation, of _Daniel's_ mutation..."

"It doesn't matter." Erik drove on, taking the first right turn he could. East. They had to get out of this godforsaken _state_. "We're much, much faster than they are."

"For how long? What if this has spread beyond state lines? They beat us here; what if they beat us to the next city, and the next? What if the filling stations are out of petrol, what if--"

"We trade cars. We hope that one of them has more fuel than ours. Or we siphon fuel from any abandoned cars we see."

"And overnight? Where are we going to sleep?"

"We'll find something."

Charles hugged himself. "You didn't get through to Richmond."

"No." Erik grimaced. "I think whoever was at the switchboard was infected."

"We're going to need a direct-dial line." Charles covered his face with both hands. "We'll need a bigger city."

"And a bigger city means more people."

"They're not people anymore, Erik." Charles shuddered.

It was beyond strange hearing that from _Charles_. But he'd know, better than Erik ever could. Erik eased one hand away from the steering wheel and swept Charles's hair back from his face. "More creatures, then, if they're infected."

"Do you think they've heard...? Back in Richmond. Do you think they've heard about the state of emergency here?"

"I can't even make a guess at what they've heard. But they knew something was going horribly wrong last night. We got in touch for long enough to tell them that." Erik kept stroking Charles's hair as he drove, one eye on the speedometer to be certain he wasn't slowing down. "For now, let's just hope there's an end to this disease if we go further east."

"East. Yes." Charles steadied himself as best he could, gently shrugging Erik's hand off him. He leaned forward and flipped the glove compartment open, pulling out their road maps. "Let me see what I can do in terms of directing us somewhere useful."


	7. Chapter 7

When it came to a choice between siphoning fuel from abandoned vehicles and stopping at filling stations that made Charles cringe, Erik quickly reverted to the remembered skills of his younger years, a time when he'd reclaimed too little from the people he'd been hunting to travel comfortably. He took a hose from the engine of the first car they stopped for, and from there on out it was almost easy. They made it to the state border in only a few more hours-- for once, Charles wasn't complaining at all about the speed Erik was driving-- and to their surprise, the border was unguarded.

"I'm not sure if that's a good sign or a bad one," Charles mused.

"I don't think we can count on it being good." Erik frowned. "Should I try the radio again?"

"I think so, yes." Charles lifted both hands to his temples and took a deep breath. "I don't feel anything, out here. But then I'm not sure I would. There simply might not be anyone for miles." His voice went quiet in a way that made Erik turn, concerned. "Miles and miles. No one..."

"Charles." Erik reached over and squeezed Charles's knee. "There's still the two of us. And we _will_ get back to Richmond."

Charles immediately reached down, covering Erik's hand with his. "Yes. _Yes._ I'm sorry, I just... there's _them_ , and there's _you_ , and..." He shook his head. "I can't remember the last time I felt so alone..."

"You're not alone." Erik took a breath. "Let me try the radio."

He didn't need to use his hand to turn the knob; unfortunately, though, there was only static from one end of the dial to the other. Charles's hand tightened on Erik's, while Erik's fingers dug into Charles's knee.

" _Entirely_ a bad sign," Erik said, snapping the radio off.

"I don't understand how it's _possible_ ," Charles whispered. "How can it have spread so far, so fast? We've been driving as fast as we can, this disease has only a few days' head start on us... There's nothing I can think of to account for this."

"You're still discounting the notion that someone wanted this disease to spread on purpose," Erik said.

"Because it's _insane_ ," Charles sputtered. "Because no one would ever, ever want this. Even if, _even if_ , this were somehow a plot against mutants, who would be willing to destroy the human population in order to carry it out?"

Erik shook his head. "Anyone who felt their power was threatened by mutants, and who didn't think through the ramifications of their actions. Or... there may even be some who'd think any sacrifice was worth it, if it could destroy mutants, too. Don't underestimate human nihilism."

"Have you been _looking_ at these people, Erik? The humans who've been turned into--" Charles's mouth twisted. "Whatever they are? _They_ didn't want this."

"Maybe the people in power did."

"No. I don't believe that."

"You believe...?"

"That it was an accident. A terrible, monstrous accident."

"At this point, I'm not certain it matters."

Charles sighed. "On that, at least, we're agreed."

They drove on in silence for a time, until Charles finally pulled out his road map again. "I don't think there's anything we can do but try and find a more populated area, somewhere we could have a chance at making that damned phone call. Amarillo's the next one on the map. We can stop there, try again. Maybe there'll be somewhere that isn't overrun with..." He shivered. "I don't know what else to do, Erik."

"Then when we reach Amarillo, we'll see what we can find." Erik shifted in his seat. "Ideally, better weapons, food, and water, along with a working telephone and a fresh tank of petrol."

"Ideally." Charles nodded. "I'll do my best to help us avoid as many of them as possible, but..."

"But we may have to fight our way through some of them. I understand. I'm ready." As ready as he could be. Who could ever have prepared for something like this?

If either of them had held out any hope that Amarillo had escaped the epidemic, it was shattered before they reached city limits. Charles nearly doubled over in his seat, and it was only with a great deal of effort that he pulled himself together enough to navigate Erik into the edge of town.

"I think... this is the best we'll do," Charles said. Sweat was beading at his temples as he pointed at a filling station, its lights still on. Erik could see creatures milling about, outside, but he counted only three.

"Just the ones we see?"

"There are two more inside."

"Then we'll start here, with these." Erik put the car in park, looking at the creatures from across the street. They were too distant to affect his ability. _Good._ He reached down to the floor for the crowbar, holding it in his hand, familiarizing himself with every inch of the iron. "If this works, it's going to be gruesome. You might not want to watch."

"It can't be worse than how they _feel_ ," Charles said, mouth closing and lips thinning into a line.

"All right." Erik closed his eyes, grounded himself with the heavy steel weight of the car, the change in his pocket and Charles's, the knobs and dials on the radio, the silverware in his pockets, the knife block at Charles's feet.

And-- most importantly for now-- the crowbar. _Yes._ He still had enough focus to do this, or he _thought_ he did, and that meant there was no time to waste.

He drew the crowbar out of the car with his ability, sent it sailing across the road. The creatures didn't even notice the piece of heavy iron whipping through the air. Erik gritted his teeth, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly he felt it leaving an impression in his palms, but one-- two-- _three_ , not the clean beheadings he might have wanted, but the creatures toppled all the same. Charles jolted upright, gasping, as the crowbars sailed back to them.

"Charles?"

"I'm all right, I'm all right-- it's better, they're all gone." Charles passed a hand over his face while Erik looked across the street at the filling station lot. The bodies were still twitching, but if Charles said it was over, Erik was inclined to believe him. Erik shifted gears and pulled slowly up to the filling station, watching the door carefully in case someone came out.

"There's a phone booth," Charles said. "You fill up. I'm going to try for it."

"We should stick together."

But buoyed by the relief of three fewer ill minds around them, Charles couldn't be reasoned with. "I'm going," Charles insisted. "I'm damned tired of being useless. At least I can make a bloody phone call."

Erik grimaced. "Take this with you, at least," he said, handing over the crowbar. It was a bit grisly, a little bloody, but Charles took it without hesitation, striding over to the phone booth.

Once the car was started fueling, Erik set the pump in place with his ability, took the lug wrench from the car, and walked over to join Charles, keeping himself between the building and the phone booth. Charles dialed, and waited-- and suddenly dropped the crowbar, jerking back against the glass wall of the booth, turning to face the doorway.

Erik could see figures inside, moving.

"Stay on the phone. I can take care of this," Erik promised. He hefted the lug wrench. Heavier than it was when the creatures were across the street. More awkward by far. But if it came to it, he could lift the damned thing with his arm and bash their heads in; getting rid of their heads had stopped the first three, at least. If it took that to protect Charles, he wouldn't hesitate.

He pulled a pair of forks out of his jacket and faced the doorway, light on his feet. No one-- no _creature_ was getting past him. Not today.

"It's ringing," Charles called out. "Thank God, now just answer, _answer_ \--"

The door began to swing open. The creature inside was simply walking forward, with that same slow shuffling gait they'd all had. It had apparently decided that the best way to open the door was to lever itself against the door until the weight and small amount of force opened it. It meant the creature wasn't coming very quickly. Erik wasn't going to complain.

This time around, Erik had plenty of opportunity to look its body over. Like all of them, it was dressed in torn, filthy clothing-- what had been a pair of overalls once, and a short-sleeved shirt-- but where Erik had seen only dirt before, now he was seeing rust-colored stains that he had no choice but to identify as blood. The clothes might have been stained before all this, but Erik doubted it. An injury of some kind, then, but the creature didn't seem affected by it, hardly seemed to notice.

Its skin was that unhealthy mottled color that all of them had been, and its eyes were that same unnatural blue he'd seen before. Its eyes were sunken, its cheeks hollow. Charles had said, again and again, that the minds felt dead-- but this was the first chance Erik had had to observe that the creatures' _bodies_ looked dead, too. And the smell from them...

"Hank! Hank, thank God, we've been trying to reach you-- yes, we're fine, we're--" Charles barked out a laugh. "No. We're not fine, we're trying to make it home, but--" He pressed his hand against the glass. "Erik. Erik, stop it--"

"I have it," Erik said. "I'm ready. Is there anywhere we can go, is there any way to get back faster? That experimental plane of Hank's--"

"I-- I--" Charles tore his eyes away from the creature at the door, which was just now beginning to get past the doorway. It took another step forward, and the door swung back behind it-- slamming into the second creature, which slumped into the door and sagged down it, landing on its face. If what he'd seen before was any indication, it would take the creature a while to get up. Erik could face them one at a time. "Hank-- there's nothing out here, there's no one, can we go somewhere to get a flight, is there a train, anything--" He gulped, as Erik lifted the crowbar. "Erik, _hurry_ \--"

Erik flung the crowbar and _pushed_ , with his ability. The crowbar slammed through the creature's head, which broke open in a nauseating splatter of blood and gore. The creature's body took several more steps before pitching forward, and Erik recalled the crowbar, vibrating it in the air as he brought it over to his hand, shaking free as much of the disgusting mass as possible. With every one of these creatures they'd subdued, his power felt stronger; now he could just wait for the last of them, and dispatch it when it caught up.

"--no," Charles was gasping. "Oh, no, that-- no. Hank, you have to pack everyone up. Everyone and everything. You have to get out of Richmond now, _tonight_. Tell Raven we'll meet in Westchester, the mansion in Westchester, do you hear me? She knows where it is, she'll know how to get there. Don't wait. _Do not wait._ Take Moira if she'll come, Taine as well. The rest-- use your instincts, but..."

"Don't trust them," Erik warned. "The rest? They're humans. We don't know them. They may be working with the people who created this disease." The second creature was stumbling out the door now; Erik readied the crowbar again.

"--we're coming, we'll come as fast as we can," Charles promised. "I'm sorry, Hank, there's no more time, I'll try to reach you again if we can, just _go_. Go! Now!"

The creature was free of the door now. Erik hurled the crowbar one last time, and when the creature collapsed, so did Charles, hand at his head, buckling to his knees.

"Gone," Charles panted, "we're safe, you got them, they're gone..."

"We're not safe," Erik snapped, looking around. "Open your eyes, Charles. We're not safe here, not even close."

"But there's no one around now."

Erik came over to Charles, offered him his hand. Charles took it and stood up; his breathing evened out, and he swayed on his feet for only a moment before slipping his hand out of Erik's and steadying himself.

"There's likely food and water inside. We should gather as much as we can; God knows the town isn't going to need it anymore." Charles wiped his hands on his vest, taking another deep breath. "Come on."

He led the way inside, stepping over the two dead bodies, leaving Erik to follow along. Once inside, he glanced around, and his attention was caught by a newspaper display. Erik followed his gaze, and both of them stood there for several seconds, blinking.

It was clearly the last newspaper they'd managed to put out here; it had today's date on it. It could have gone to press overnight, Erik realized; it was the morning edition. The headline was unreal, and in a world where Erik had come to terms with his own superhuman control over metal, mutants with telepathic ability, and allies who could change shape, grow wings, hang from prehensile toes, hurl energy rings, shout down the skies, and adapt to survive any threat, Erik's bar for 'unreal' was quite high.

None of that, somehow, had prepared him for a headline that read:

ZOMBIE PLAGUE SWEEPS THE NATION

Erik turned to Charles; Charles looked at Erik in return.

"'Zombie plague'...?"

"It's a term for it," Charles said grimly. "A ridiculous, melodramatic, sensationalist sort of term, but it's a term."

" _Zombie_ plague?"

"Hardly an _appropriate_ term, let's be clear, as these creatures have nothing whatsoever to do with African or Haitian _vodou_ \--"

" _Zombie plague?_ "

"--though some resemblance might be found between these creatures and the ones in films such as _White Zombie_ and later films that drew their influence from--"

"For God's sake, Charles!" Erik shouted, grabbing Charles by the shoulders. "Zombie or infection or army of walking dead, I don't give a damn, just tell me you and Hank can find a way to _stop_ this!"

Charles reached up and put his hands on either side of Erik's head. "I don't know," he said, fierce and loud, and Erik could feel the blood draining from his face. "I don't know, Erik, but there's nothing we can do but try and get back to Westchester. There's nowhere else to go, there's _nothing_. According to Hank, the outbreak's just as bad there as here, if not worse. The airports are all closed, the trains have stopped. They haven't been outside the facility to hear more than that. Hank said they were told to stay inside the facility at all costs."

"Ominous. And that facility is hardly well-defended."

"No. Which is why I told Hank he needs to leave, that he needs to leave _now_. Moira confirmed that all transportation _everywhere_ appears to be locked down. I don't know how they'll get to Westchester, but it was the only thing I could think of. The mansion's remote, it's fortified, it's well-supplied in case of a nuclear apocalypse, and it's defensible. So now it's up to us to get there, join them. And maybe-- _maybe_ \-- if we get there quickly, we won't have to fight any more of these--" his mouth twisted-- " _zombies_ , than we already have."

Erik drew in a breath. "Then we'd better get back on the road. And hope there are enough working filling stations and abandoned vehicles to get us where we're going."


	8. Chapter 8

Along the endless stretch of Route 66, Charles managed a few fitful hours of rest. As they drove past more populated areas, he'd come awake, tense, eyes darting from side to side as his hands cradled his head; when the only things nearby were dry fields and sometimes cows, he could relax again, his head tipping sideways as his body sagged against his safety belt.

Erik glanced over as Charles began to twitch in his sleep. He slipped the safety belt free of its buckle with his ability and reached out, his arm around Charles's shoulders. Charles didn't even open his eyes; he slid over, tucking himself against the curve of Erik's arm, taking a deep breath.

"Another city?" Charles murmured.

"Springfield, Missouri."

"What time is it?"

Erik could feel the hands on his watch; he didn't need to look at them. "Nearly midnight."

"You've been driving a long time." Charles yawned, bringing up one hand to cover his mouth. "Are you tired?"

"I've spent longer than this without rest. I'm all right, Charles."

"Yes." Charles curled his hands into the fabric of Erik's shirt. "Yes, you are, thank God for that, if I were out here on my own..."

"You'd find a way to manage." Even so, Erik hugged Charles a little closer. "I know you. You wouldn't give up. You don't like to give up on anything. Or anyone." He could feel Charles smiling, just a little, against his chest. "You wouldn't give up on yourself."

"Erik..." Charles tilted his head up. Erik couldn't take his eyes off the road, not now. The road had been abandoned the entire time he'd been driving-- another thing that seemed beyond ominous-- but there were cars here and there, most of them empty, some of them with occupants that made Charles squirm away from the passenger window. "I said earlier-- there's a talk I've been meaning to have with you..."

"And I said it could wait. It still can."

"When we stop for the night--"

Erik set his jaw, exhaling softly. "You won't be put off, will you?"

"I don't believe there's anything to be gained from waiting. Not anymore."

"Maybe there's not," Erik said quietly. "The timing could be better."

"We didn't choose the timing. Or anything about this. I just don't think we should waste the opportunity..."

"When we stop for the night," Erik interrupted. "It can wait until then. Until I'm not driving, at least."

"All right. That's fair." Charles rested his head against Erik's chest, moving a little closer on the bench seat. "I'll tell you when we're far enough away from our zombie friends. When I can't feel them anymore, we'll stop. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

It wasn't long, after that. The farmhouse at the side of the road had just come into view when Charles sat up and said, "There. Safe enough. It's empty."

Empty, indeed-- no people, no animals, no vehicles. No power. It wasn't damaged, though, and didn't have the stink of death on it; if it had been abandoned, it was very recent. Maybe its owners had gotten out alive.

They'd managed to find a pair of lanterns at the filling station, as well as a large thermos for each of them. At the filling station, the water taps had still been working; here, the water pressure was minimal, but Erik still managed to fill both half-gallon containers, setting them back in the car once he was done. Better to be prepared to leave immediately, if it came to that.

Charles looked through the pantry. Everything was still edible; the occupants really hadn't been gone long. He managed to pull together sandwiches, with peanut butter and-- presumably-- homemade preserves. "I feel as if I'm twelve years old again, eating something Raven made for dinner. But it's something that didn't come from a travel mart. We can't live on filled sponge cakes and beef jerky alone."

"You'd be surprised what you can live on, if necessity requires it." Erik shrugged. Charles nodded, not pressing any further. "I should look around a little more. Now that we're alone again, maybe I can find something here I could use even without my ability. A shotgun, maybe."

"Are you good with guns?"

"Quite. I have an advantage there; bullets are lead, after all."

"So they are," Charles said. "They don't travel too quickly for you to alter their path, then?"

"It's taken some practice," Erik allowed, smiling. The smile faded a bit as he looked at Charles, the curiosity lighting his face, the warmth in his expression. Charles dimmed just as quickly.

"I'm sorry," Charles offered, frowning. "Did I say something wrong...?"

"No, not at all. Your curiosity, even in the face of all this..." Erik reached across the table, and Charles slipped his hand into Erik's. "We _do_ need to have that talk."

Charles squeezed Erik's hand. "It was easy for me," he said quietly. "I knew everything about you from the moment we met."

"You've known too much about me from the moment we met." Erik wasn't going to flinch away from this conversation; he looked into Charles's eyes. "But you took me in anyway. Offered me a place with you. I've tried not to read too much into that..."

"The way I've tried not to read you, ever since?" Charles smiled at that. "It hasn't been easy. Sometimes the way you look at me practically shouts what you're thinking..."

"Sometimes it's the same for you." Erik shook his head. "Try to understand, Charles..." Having it out there, out in the open, even at a moment like this... even at a moment when they were lit by candlelight and there was no one else around them, for miles and miles... Erik looked down at Charles's hand, tight in his own. "There's been nothing like this for me."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing like _this_." Erik held onto Charles's hand and looked at Charles, truly allowed himself to _look_ , here and now. He'd _wanted_ to look. He'd seen Charles in the water, face pale, lips a dark red in contrast, the spray of freckles over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose... even before they'd come out of the water, gotten into dry clothing, there'd been a spark between them. Even then, at a moment when it couldn't have been more inappropriate.

There'd been other times since then. Day after day, night after night. Times when it felt almost as if there'd be room for it, somehow. Times when his interest in Charles seemed... inappropriate, still... maybe... but not unwanted. Looking back, there'd never been a time he'd felt this attraction between them was one-sided. Not since that second night, when he'd tried to leave the Richmond facility and found Charles outside, waiting for him, wanting to draw him back.

Feeling it was one thing. Acting on it, something else. "I don't believe the world's ending," Erik said, careful to keep his tone light, "so if that's the only reason we're having this conversation, then it can _still_ wait."

"I don't want it to." Charles was firm about that, his hand tightening on Erik's. "I want you to know it. Here. Now. And tomorrow. And when we reach Westchester. And when this is all over."

"You keep asking me to promise I'll stay." Charles looked away, nodding. "This is why, isn't it?"

"Isn't it why you want to stay?"

Erik stood and came around the table; Charles got to his feet, meeting him. It felt as though they were both holding their breath, both waiting for the other to make that final move toward changing everything.

But Erik moved first, his hand coming up to Charles's cheek. He brushed at Charles's cheek with the backs of his fingers, rubbed his thumb across it as he curved his hand around the side of Charles's neck. Charles held his breath, staring up, his lips-- _those lips_ , the ones Erik had spent so much time looking at-- parted.

"Yes?" Erik whispered.

"Erik. _Yes._ "

Erik bent his head down and kissed Charles, and Charles moaned, both his arms coming up to twine around Erik's neck. Erik stroked his palms down Charles's sides, resting them on his hips, tugging Charles forward; Charles didn't resist, didn't even try. He molded his body to Erik's as if making sure they fit, and God, they _did_ : Erik was leaner, slighter, but Charles's shorter frame fit against him perfectly, their bodies a match to one another. A match that felt _right_.

Charles's hands were moving up, stroking through Erik's hair; Erik wanted his hands everywhere, on Charles's back, his chest... down over the curve of his arse. He turned them, pressing Charles to the kitchen counter, holding him there while he explored Charles's mouth, felt Charles open to him, coax him in deeper. He'd wanted to kiss Charles for months, but he hadn't anticipated how it would feel to _do_ it. Beyond attraction, beyond desire, there was an urge to _be_ with him, be _close_ to him, past all other needs he'd ever felt...

He drew back, licking across Charles's lips one last time before getting to a place where he could look into Charles's eyes. "That," Erik whispered. "That's what you've wanted?"

"That's not _all_ I've wanted." Charles reached up, held the back of Erik's neck in his hand. "You said it hasn't been like this before. What has it been like, for you?"

"Don't you know that already?" Erik ran his hand down Charles's side again, slipping his fingers just under Charles's vest. "Haven't you seen...?"

"I have images. Memories. I don't know what you'd want me to know about them." Charles stood up a little higher, kissed Erik's mouth softly. "What has it been like, for you?"

Erik was moving his hand up, against the softer fabric of Charles's shirt now, the heat from Charles's stomach warming his fingers. "Men for hire," he murmured. "Now and then. No one special." He moved his hand around, to Charles's back, pulling him in tight again. "No one who ever made me think about staying somewhere, in spite of myself."

"No one you loved?"

"It's not a word I use much."

"I've noticed," Charles said, coming up again to kiss Erik's cheek. "Is it one you can hear?"

Erik turned his face, took the kiss Charles offered. Charles leaned in to his touch again, but this time there was more to it: more heat between them, more insistence, Charles's hands moving to Erik's shirt buttons, Erik tugging at Charles's vest and shirt, trying to get them out from his waistband. When he succeeded, the shock of his hand on Charles's bare skin made both of them groan out loud.

"I don't think whoever abandoned this house would begrudge us the use of a bed," Charles whispered, his breath coming fast against Erik's mouth.

"I don't know that I'd give a damn if they did," Erik answered, and they took their candles and went upstairs, Charles's fingers laced through Erik's, neither of them willing to be more than a few inches from the other.

The bed they found was huge, the bedframe made of heavy brass. Erik grinned, feeling it more than seeing it, and as soon as their candles were situated on the bedside tables, Erik went to work on his buttons, undoing his shirt to the waist.

"You don't have to go so quickly," Charles said, smiling, lips curved upward in a tease. "I'd be more than happy to finish undressing you."

"Have you done much of this yourself?" Erik paused as soon as he'd asked the question, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer. He finished with his shirt, moved on to the rest of his clothing while Charles undressed as well.

As quick as Charles was being with his clothing, he was taking his time answering the question. He climbed into bed-- bare _everywhere_ , and Erik could hardly see him. Erik finished with his clothes, crawling into bed alongside Charles, almost afraid to touch him-- but Charles decided that for him, taking hold of Erik's arms and tugging him over, spreading his legs to get Erik between his thighs, sweeping his hands up and down Erik's back.

"There," Charles said, while Erik gasped, and shook, and tried to hold _still_. He could feel _everything_ , he could feel Charles _everywhere_ \-- he bent his head down above Charles's shoulder, his eyes closed, trying to steady himself. Charles's thighs were tight around Erik's hips, his arms strong on Erik's back. Erik had himself propped up on his elbows, he'd at least learned to do that much from the men he'd known before, but with the thick, hard length of Charles's cock alongside his, it felt as though Erik could have thrust down two or three times and been completely lost.

"Good?" Charles asked, his voice so soft Erik hardly heard it. He swept his hands down Erik's back, lingering at a spot just above his arse. "There," he breathed. "Oh, I've wanted to touch you..."

"If you keep saying things like that, this won't last long," Erik warned him. Charles laughed, flattening his hands against the small of Erik's back, holding still. It was enough for Erik to recover, nearly, and press himself up again so he could see Charles's face, look at him as he smiled.

And he was smiling now. "Sort of," he said. "But not like this, either."

Erik blinked down at him. "Sort of...?"

"You asked if I'd done much of this," Charles explained. "And the answer is... 'sort of'." He took one hand off Erik's back to tap his temple. "I've seen things you couldn't possibly imagine, not if you lived a hundred years. Some of it real, some of it fantasy. I've felt what the people in motel rooms around ours were doing."

Erik chuckled, softly, and kissed Charles's forehead. "I've heard some of that."

"And sometimes people think about me that way. People I _haven't_ vowed to do my best not to read." Charles reached up, caressed Erik's cheek, his thumb slipping down to the point of Erik's chin. "So I've always thought-- I knew, more or less, what it would be like."

 _What it would be like._ "Then you haven't-- yourself...?"

"There's a bit of risk involved," Charles said quietly, his eyes on his thumb, moving back and forth over Erik's chin, over his jaw. "Less of one for me, perhaps. I know who can keep a secret and who can't. I know when the man I'm talking to wants something good for both of us, and when he's a time bomb, ready to lash out if he thinks too hard about what he's doing." He looked into Erik's eyes again. "But there's still a risk. And I was never willing to take it, before."

"But now you are."

Charles squirmed under him-- squirmed _definitively_ , with purpose. Erik threw his head back, gasping. "Now I am," Charles said, his hand coming down to Erik's shoulder. "Because of you. Because I can finally _have_ you." As Erik tipped his head down to look at Charles again, Charles grinned, ear-to-ear. "Because the world might not be ending, but I'll be damned if I care what the zombies think of my taking another man to bed."

Erik had to laugh at that, and the grin on his face made Charles surge up against him, his arm coming around Erik's neck, kissing him hotly, his tongue thrusting against Erik's, his body working beneath Erik's until Erik was panting between every fast kiss, every stroke of his tongue into Charles's mouth.

"I want you," Erik whispered, pulling just far enough away to look at Charles's face again. "I've _wanted_ you. I want you so much, Charles..."

"I can guarantee you that if there's anything in particular you want, you won't shock me with it." Charles leaned up, left a tiny kiss on Erik's nose. "This is the first time, Erik. There's time enough for everything else after."

Erik nodded, and pushed himself up on one arm, making space between them. He reached for both of them-- his cock and Charles's, held together in his hand-- and Charles gasped, head thrown back. Even with need beginning to blind him, Erik smiled at that.

"Is it different when it's your body and not just your mind?"

"Believe me, my mind's involved," Charles answered, barely, his voice thick. "Everything's involved, it's-- Erik-- do it! Touch me, please, I need this, I _need_ it--" He grabbed for Erik's shoulders, thrusting up beneath him, and Erik moved, his hand stroking their cocks, his cock sliding against Charles's, both of them, together, yes, God, _yes_. Erik wasn't going to be able to wait.

He leaned down just enough to kiss Charles one last time, and then it was all over, his groan stifled behind a bitten lip, his hand moving faster and faster, his cock pulsing between them, the slickness coating his hand, and his cock, and _Charles's_ cock as well. But Charles wasn't waiting for him to recover: he arched beneath Erik, and he moaned, and Erik _swore_ he could hear it in his mind as well as in the room. But watching Charles come apart for him, feeling Charles's cock jerk in his hand and feeling Charles _come_ for him, Erik could only think, _Yes, all of this, yes,_ until they were both spent.

Charles tugged him down-- confusing Erik at first, until he let Charles push and tug him into place, and then Charles curled up with him, _holding_ him. Something else that wasn't like it had been for Erik, before. Erik reached as far to the side as he could, wiped his messy hand on the sheets, and let himself be held, wondering if being held afterwards always felt so right. He thought not.


	9. Chapter 9

They dozed, and woke, and after a few soft kisses, Charles put a hand on Erik's shoulder and eased him back.

"Before we get started again..."

Erik smiled at him. "Yes?"

"I'd like to know how the others are doing. I'll sleep better if I know they're safe."

"If you sleep."

Charles grinned. "If, yes."

"Speaking of _if_... if there were power, then of course we could call..." He couldn't even remember a phone downstairs, though. "But..."

"I'm not thinking of the phone. I want to try Cerebro again."

"After what it did to you the last time?" Erik sat up, frowning. "Charles--"

"I can't feel a single zombie mind anywhere around us. Now is the _best_ possible time to use it. I know where Hank is, or where he's going, and I know how his mind feels. I know what I'd be looking for. And Cerebro..." Charles stroked a hand down Erik's arm. "If your ability's up to it, Cerebro doesn't need any power other than you."

"If my ability's up to it," Erik repeated. He crooked a finger; the heavy headrail from the bed snaked forward, slithering over Charles's shoulder and wrapping around his arm, again and again.

Charles squirmed, laughing. "That's _cold_ , you realize."

Erik let him go. "If you want to try... I'm with you, Charles, but if it's like the last time--"

"If it's like the last time, I'll stop. Come down to the car with me? We can do it up here."

They dressed, and after retrieving their suitcases, Erik helped Charles get Cerebro's case onto the bed. He held onto the coil of wire, and once Charles had the skullcap on and nodded that he was ready, Erik started to generate the magnetic field he needed.

It worked-- he'd known it would work, he and Hank had tested it back in Richmond, but it was still startling to see it in action. The principle was sound enough, at least if Hank were to be trusted-- and on matters of science, Erik did trust Hank. If an electric current could generate magnetism, then it was only reasonable to imagine that a controlled magnetic field could generate electricity, the field flickering in and out to simulate the spinning workings of a dynamo. The hardest part of it, Erik had found, wasn't the stuttered on-off of the magnetic field itself-- he'd managed to visualize that as a strobe, a flashing light of sorts. It was the timing. Sixty flashes per second. When he was finally at the right speed, the lights on the control unit came on, and Charles sat up straighter, looking into the distance for a moment.

"It's working," he said. "And... no ill effects yet, nothing. Now-- _Hank_." He closed his eyes. "I need to broadcast far enough, loudly enough, to get to Hank." He took a few deep breaths-- and then his brow furrowed, and he pitched forward slightly.

Erik stared down at the coil in his hands; he couldn't let go of it to catch Charles, it needed an orderly shutdown to be safe. "Charles...?"

"It's all right," Charles gasped. "I'm all right. I just... further out... there are... they're not as far as I thought." He took a deep, fortifying breath. "So many. There are _so many_. Erik... how could anyone... _why_ , Erik..."

"Focus on Hank," Erik said. "Think of Hank. Westchester. Calm your mind--"

"--you're telling _me_ to calm my mind--"

"Calm your mind, and find Hank. _Find him._ " Erik kept the current even, steady; a surge now could hurt Charles, and there was no way he'd allow that to happen. "You can do this, Charles. Find him."

"Yes--" Charles grimaced, and then got his eyes open, staring at the wall in front of him.

 _There._ That look, the one that spoke of concentration and focus, of immense power finally unleashed-- _that_ was what Charles looked like when he was using Cerebro, and as much as Erik's feelings about Cerebro were mixed, this at least felt _normal_.

He felt the brush of thoughts against his own, a whisper, something he could only barely make out as words. «Hank? Can you hear me?»

Whatever the answer was, he couldn't hear that-- no surprise, not really-- but Charles sent out another thought, almost immediately after. «Thank God. You'll be safe there. Is everyone unharmed?... Good... good, yes. Thank you.»

He winced again, his face screwing up-- Erik recognized that look as well, the look of disgust Charles had had every time his mind had encountered zombies. He pushed through it, all the same. «We're in Missouri. Yes, we've stopped for the night. Two more days, if we push hard. I don't know, Hank. Roswell, to start with, but there's no way to... yes... understood.»

Again, a painful twist to Charles's features, and he let out a breath. «I need to power down, Hank, this is beginning to hurt, the minds around us-- there are so many...»

"I'm going to dial the power down in ten," Erik said firmly, "nine..."

«Soon, Hank! Soon...» Charles pulled back, and sucked in a breath. "There," he panted, "there, shut it down--" He turned dials, let the lights go out one by one as Erik finished the countdown.

And when Erik got to _one_ , Charles yanked the skullcap off his head, breathing hard. "Well," he panted, "at least we know my range, now."

Erik reached for him, caressed Charles's temples. "And now we can put Cerebro aside, and you can _rest_."

"I won't argue." Charles lay back as Erik packed Cerebro into its case and put it aside. He didn't bother to undress-- neither of them did, Erik too determined to get within Charles's reach, Charles too anxious to have Erik's arms around him again.

Erik stroked Charles's hair, kissing his face, his cheeks, his mouth, all soft, gentle, unhurried. "There," he whispered. "You've done enough. You've done well, Charles. Rest now."

Charles nodded against him. "Let me just-- I need to feel you. _You._ " He drew back, hands shaking as he tried to unbutton his shirt again. Erik took over for him, helping Charles out of his clothes, leaving his own at the side of the bed and coming back immediately, letting Charles wrap himself around Erik, his breath finally slowing as he felt Erik's bare skin pressed against his.

"Can I say it now?" Charles whispered. "I think-- I think I might need to."

Erik's heart thudded painfully in his chest, but he nodded. "Yes."

"I love you." Charles pressed his face against the side of Erik's neck. "I loved you in the water. I love you now."

Erik tightened his hold on Charles, breathing in deeply. "When this is done," he whispered back, "when Shaw's gone, when it's all over... I'll stay. With you." He tilted Charles's head back carefully, and bent his own down, pressed his forehead against Charles's. Charles reached up, tentative, his fingertips moving slowly over Erik's face, until Erik pressed them to his temple and nodded.

He couldn't say everything in words, but from the way Charles kissed him, maybe he didn't need to.


	10. Chapter 10

They slept well into the morning, but sometime after sunrise, Charles began shaking in his sleep. Erik held onto him, his face pressed to the back of Charles's neck, his body wrapped around Charles's. It helped for a few minutes, but soon enough Charles was shaking again, whimpering.

"Charles," Erik said quietly. "Charles... wake up."

Charles jerked in his arms and then half-twisted, eyes wide. As soon as he saw Erik, he turned fully around, burying his face against Erik's neck. "I can feel them," he said, his voice muffled. "Not again... _please_ , not again, I can't stand it, a whole _world_ of these minds, there's nothing else, there's _nothing_ \--"

"There's me." Erik cupped the back of Charles's head in his hand. "Stay with me, Charles. I need you."

He could feel the hint of a smile on Charles's face; when Charles pulled back to look at him, his eyes might have been wet, but he was looking up at Erik in wonder. "I never thought you'd say that to me."

"I said things to you last night," Erik murmured.

"Out loud," Charles clarified, his fingers drifting to Erik's temple as his eyes closed. Erik stiffened-- he couldn't help it-- and Charles drew back immediately, the hurt expression fleeting on his face as he tried to roll over. "I wasn't reading you," he muttered. "I was just feeling you. And remembering last night--"

"Charles--" Erik caught Charles by the shoulder, pulling him back into place; when Charles stopped trying to move away, Erik brushed the hair back off his face, steeled himself, and nodded. "I understand what it means to you," he said, taking Charles's hand, moving it back to his temple. "Can you let it be my choice?"

"Of course I can." Charles caressed Erik's temple, moving his fingertips gently up and down. "Can you trust me to respect that boundary?"

It _was_ a leap of faith; Charles's ability was so profound that any pretensions of free will in his company would always rest on faith that Charles was permitting it. Any pretensions of privacy would always be based on trust that Charles took only what was offered.

Last night didn't change anything, not when it came to that. Being near Charles was an exercise in trust no matter what the circumstances of their connection.

But it was one thing to trust Charles out of pragmatism and a lack of choice. It was something else to _trust_ him. Erik took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes."

"Did you want to share something with me?" Charles tapped Erik's temple, very gently. "You're the one who put my hand here."

Erik nodded. "Yes. Go on," he said, and Charles's eyes slid closed, a peaceful expression coming over his face for the first time this morning. Erik watched him, thinking of last night, of every complicated reason he'd _wanted_ Charles, of what it had meant to Erik to _have_ him, the way he had. He let those feelings slide through him, fuller and richer by the moment, and Charles's smile grew more and more broad.

And then suddenly, abruptly, he pulled his hand away from Erik's head and pitched forward, gasping. "The zombies," he got out. "I can feel them. Everywhere. Getting closer. We have to go. We have to go _now_."

"We'll continue this later," Erik promised, and he rolled out of bed, grabbing for his clothes. Charles did the same, slower than Erik, his hands shaking. They grabbed Cerebro's case-- and yes, Erik could feel that it was growing heavier and heavier-- along with their other suitcases, and hurried down the stairs, down to the kitchen, out, _now_ \--

The air filled with the scent of brimstone, and Erik dropped everything, reached out to pull Charles back. He'd barely gotten his hand to Charles's shoulder when the four of them teleported in-- Shaw, his telepath, his windmaster, the teleporter. The telepath was all in diamond, and Charles grimaced-- whatever he'd been trying to do with his thoughts, it clearly wasn't getting through.

But after that initial moment's reaction, Charles was caught up, staring at Shaw. Shaw had a grey helmet of some kind on, with vicious pointing curves framing his face. Charles blinked, over and over, so obviously puzzled by Shaw that Shaw noticed, and laughed.

"I'm still here. Feels _weird_ , though, doesn't it? Not being able to read me? Or feel me?" Shaw glanced over at Frost; even in diamond form, Erik could see her smiling. "Yeah, we were hoping that would throw you. You're all mind, aren't you? Whereas Emma..." Shaw glanced back at the two of them with a smile. "Emma's power gives her just a little bit of body awareness, too."

Erik took Charles's hand. He hadn't tried this before, but there was no time like now to see if his thoughts could reach Charles, if only they were loud enough. « _Charles. Can you hear me?_ » Maybe Frost was only guarding her allies' minds from Charles's ability. But when there was no response, it was clear that the answer was no.

Other tactics, then. "What are you doing here?" Erik asked Shaw. He drew his thumb across Charles's fingers. One. _Two._ He kept his thumb on Charles's middle finger while he addressed Shaw. "How did you find us?" His thumb moved back to Charles's index finger; he turned to Frost. "Or was that you, somehow?"

"Your brains are pretty different from the other ones around here, sugar," Frost said with a smile. "Not that yours is a hell of a lot less scary than our little zombie friends."

"You know why," Erik said calmly, looking deliberately at Shaw once more as he pressed the pad of his thumb to Charles's middle finger. He moved his thumb to Charles's ring finger, and looked at Quested. "You've seen what's happening, then." And to Charles's little finger, when he addressed the last of it to Azazel. " _You_ could get away. Frankly, I wouldn't blame you if you did."

"No one's going anywhere right now," Shaw promised. "Especially you. You've got something I want, Erik--" his gaze flicked to Cerebro's case, on the ground-- "but this goes deeper than that. I want you to join me." He smiled at Charles; the smile wasn't pleasant. "Bring him along, if you can get him to behave. You and I were _meant_ to be allies, Erik. All that rage. All that anger. It belongs at my side."

Erik tapped Charles's little finger with his thumb, and then squeezed. The metal in this room was growing more and more vague, but they were still in the damned _kitchen_. Behind the four of them, there was a rack of pots and pans. Erik felt for the heaviest of them, a cast-iron skillet, and his other hand clenched into a fist as he felt the metal, forced his awareness to narrow around that one heavy pan.

"The only way," Erik whispered, "I will _ever_ ," the pan, lifted from its hook, gently, _gently_ , "stand at your side... is if I have a knife to your throat, and I'm cutting you open."

"You know that isn't how it would work." Shaw stretched out a hand. "You'd learn to love being at my side, the way you used to. The way the rest of them have. And you," he said to Charles, "you'd be able to use your power, as much and as strongly as you wanted. No more party tricks. No more hiding. You can remake all the minds you want. Make them over in your own image, make them dance on your strings." He smiled. "Join us. Both of you. And you can finally live like the gods you are."

"Erik," Charles whispered. The pan was heavy, _so heavy_ , slipping-- "Erik, _do it_ \--"

Shaw's split-second of smug belief cost them all. Erik snarled and flung the cast-iron skillet as hard as he could, slamming it into the back of Azazel's head, knocking the mutant to the floor. He drew the skillet into his hand, his power ebbing at every turn, and slammed the skillet into Azazel's head as hard as he could with the force from his arm and his ability. It was only then he noticed Charles crumpling behind him; Charles was gasping, one hand to the back of his head, dropping to his knees.

Erik had no time to protect him; Frost was on him, knocking him back into the wall, coming for him and pinning him to it, her hand around his throat. She squeezed just enough to threaten, but the razor edges of her fingers were well away from his skin, and he could still breathe, barely.

"Azazel first," Shaw said. Quested had fallen to Azazel's side, checking his neck for a pulse. Blood was spreading; Azazel was down, and Erik was as sure as he could be that Azazel wouldn't be getting up again. Erik looked up at Shaw, eyes narrowed. "Interesting play. You wanted to make sure we couldn't get away from each other? Fight it out to the last? Was that it?"

Charles was still on the floor, on all fours now. Shaw came over to him, went to one knee, and slid his fingers through Charles's hair. "Bet that's gonna hurt for a while, huh? Did you have to hold Azazel for that first hit? Did it feel like he was bashing in your brain and not just Azazel's?" Charles tried to flinch away, but Shaw caught him by the hair, holding him in place. "You want to know why you can't feel a damn thing from me?"

For all that Charles was clearly hurting, he could still speak. At least there was that. "Helmet," he croaked. "That... ugly... excuse for a... hat." He was growing stronger with every word. Thank God. Erik hadn't considered... he hadn't even realized that whatever happened to the mind Charles was holding might happen to Charles as well.

"Right in one." Shaw smiled down at Charles. "Any other questions? While I've got you here."

"How did you..." Charles swallowed, trying to tug away; Shaw wouldn't let go. "How did you find us?"

"That was all me, baby." Frost smiled over her shoulder at Charles. "You put up a homing signal last night that anybody could've seen."

"And yet it took you eight hours to find us."

"Well, we were kind of busy," Shaw drawled. "And you obviously weren't going anywhere."

"In Missouri," Frost parroted, imitating Charles's accent. "We've stopped for the night."

"So why come and get you right away when we could keep unleashing Plan B all over the world?"

This time when Charles tried to pull away, Shaw let him. If Erik knew Shaw-- and he knew the man entirely too damned bloody well-- it was so he could see the horrified expression on Charles's face, so Charles could see the satisfaction on his. "Plan B," Charles repeated.

"You think this disease was an accident? It took me _years_ to come up with a formula, something that could incubate in a mutant and then devastate the human population. You guys knew _way_ too much about my plans for using the United States and Russia against each other; even if I could still shove those pieces around the board, maybe you could've stopped them. A missile's just a big piece of metal, and somebody I know--" Shaw looked over at Erik, "somebody I _taught_ , somebody who owes _everything he is_ to me, wouldn't have any trouble dealing with missiles. Would he?"

Erik grimaced, turning his neck from side to side. There was no way Frost was going to let him go; all he could do was wait Shaw out. Charles was pale, his face still tight with pain, but he was upright. When this was over, he owed Charles an apology, a great many apologies. «I'm sorry, Charles. Can you hear me? I'm sorry.»

"So okay, Plan B wasn't exactly ready for prime time. I mean, I wanted the people to be functional-- what good is it to rule if your subjects are all," he snorted, "zombies? But when it's all over, mutants should be okay, mostly. The smart ones. And I can start over from there."

"You're mad," Charles whispered. "You're entirely mad, those creatures aren't going to ignore us just because we're _mutants_. And the disease affects mutants, too. We saw Callow, in Roswell. We saw him. He was like the rest of them."

"Better hope they don't bite you, then. We want you to be smart about this."

"Hope," Charles scoffed. "You can do better than hope. You have a cure somewhere. You wouldn't risk this epidemic if you weren't sure you could survive it."

"Maybe so, maybe not. You pretty much just took out the only guy who could get you to it," he said, nodding back at Azazel's inert form. "Smart move, if you wanted to ensure the destruction of mankind." Shaw gave Erik a considering glance. "Maybe a little part of you did want that."

"Don't listen to him," Erik whispered.

"Don't worry, I'm not."

Glancing back at Quested, Shaw nodded down at Azazel's body. "What's the word?"

Quested shook his head.

"Technically speaking, that's not a word." Shaw grinned. "But I know how you clam up in front of strangers." Shaw sighed. "All right, so that's inconvenient. But he did everything he needed to do. Teleporting infected humans all over the country, all over the world? It was a dirty job, but he was a brave guy. Did it without even complaining."

"That's how it spread so quickly," Charles whispered. " _You._ You were doing it deliberately..."

"How?" Erik got out. "The zombies... they interrupt our powers. Azazel..."

"Azazel's not--" Shaw corrected himself. "Azazel _wasn't_ exactly one of us. Let's just say his family history is... different." He smiled. "But I guess some good old-fashioned blunt trauma to the head works on damn near anything."

"It's been working on your zombie army," Erik said. "One does what one can."

"Did it feel good?" Shaw asked, abandoning Charles for the time being, coming over and walking up to Frost and Erik. "Did you like killing him?" Frost shifted away, and Shaw took her place, his hand fitting over Erik's throat where hers had been. "You can tell me. It's okay. I've always known what to do with your anger, you know that. If you want that rush again and again..." His voice lowered, grew almost tender. Erik tried to move, but Shaw's grip, for all it looked gentle and easy, was as unbreakable as Frost's. That damned mutation of his, his strength, his absorption of kinetic energy... if Erik struck out at him, it would only make him stronger.

Behind him, there was a flicker. Erik looked over, and his eyes widened. Frost was changing rapidly back and forth between diamond and flesh. When the diamond finally fell away completely, she stared down at her hands, turning them over and back, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. As if she didn't recognize her own skin.

"Sebastian," she said, and then she gasped, a hand to her head. "No. _No, no, no_ \--"

Charles was pale, sweating, but he was forcing himself to his feet. "They're almost here," he panted. "We have to go. We have to get out."

"Join us," Shaw said, still calm and inexorable. His fingers tightened the slightest bit on Erik's neck, and Erik choked-- how was Shaw still unaffected, when Frost was flesh again and incapacitated by the zombie minds around her, when Charles was showing all the effects of those dead minds surrounding _him_? Erik could barely feel the metal around him, not even the skillet on the floor, the silverware stuck into his jacket pockets, but Shaw was still strong, not an iota of his strength ebbing. "Join us, and I'll take you with us. Away from this place."

Frost was on the floor now, screaming, her hands at her head. Quested was trying to pull her to her feet, but she was fighting him. Charles began limping over to Shaw and Erik, and the door burst in, a crush of zombies spilling onto the floor, some of them falling and lying there unmoving while others stumbled over them.

 _So many_ \-- Erik stared in shock. There'd been no more than five in one place anywhere they'd stopped, but he could see no end to them now, and as he looked around, out the windows, the other door, he saw countless shapes outside. Frost was quaking on the ground while Quested tugged uselessly at her arm, and Charles, somehow, was upright, moving no more steadily than the zombies around him, coming up behind Shaw. He was drenched in sweat now, but moving with _purpose_.

Erik gripped Shaw's hand in both of his. "Listen to me," he rasped out. "You were right. That I liked it. Killing Azazel. The people I've killed, coming to get you. You taught me well."

Charles stumbled to one knee, but there was nothing for it but to keep going. Across the room, Frost was scrambling backward, as quickly as she could, finally reaching the staircase and beginning to crawl up it. The zombies had grabbed hold of Quested, and he was screaming, their numbers too many, their hands groping for him, one of them reaching to his head and dragging him down, the others biting at his flesh...

"I dreamed of killing you," he whispered, "but isn't that what every boy dreams of, growing up? Destroying the man that created him?" His eyes were laser-focused, drilling into Shaw's, making certain Shaw ate up every word. Behind Shaw, Charles struggled back to his feet. "Your lessons were my _destiny_. I am what you made me. You're my father, my teacher, my _creator_ \--"

And as Shaw began to smile, Charles yanked the helmet from his head, tossing it as far away as he could. Shaw turned, but now he was pinning Erik only with the force of an ordinary man, and Erik shoved at him, knocking him away.

"The helmet," Charles panted, "the helmet _blocks_ them--"

"You might have made me," Erik snarled, "but you'll never control me again." He slammed his fist into the side of Shaw's head. Shaw went down, and Erik followed him, pounding Shaw's head into the floor again, and again, until Shaw was too dazed to move.

The zombies were converging on Frost now, the ones who could walk. Those who'd been shoved to the floor and trampled were crawling over to Azazel's inert body. One of them fell face-first into the blood smear below his head; another began gnawing on Azazel's ear.

Erik scrambled to the side of the room, grateful beyond measure that Charles had thrown the helmet _away_ from the door. He snatched it up and put it on, and the entire kitchen snapped into focus again, into _being_ again. He could feel every inch of metal in it, everything he could use for a weapon, the nails in the frame of the house, _all of it_ , and it was _his_.

He could end it now. End Shaw, forever. He had every piece of metal in this kitchen at his disposal. But the zombies had caught up to him, several of them grabbing him at once, and one of them managed a single word that chilled Erik to the bone.

" _Brrraaaaaiiinnnssss_..."

"No-- Erik, please, stop them--"

"Charles!" Erik yelled, and Charles stumbled to him. Erik pulled Charles hard against his side. Charles tried to tug at him, but he was too weak. Erik was back at full strength, _full_ strength.

"The cure," Charles gasped. He braced himself against Erik and shoved his fingers against his temple, staring down at Shaw, teeth gritted, doing his best to hold back a scream. " _Where. Where is it, you fool_ \--"

"Let him go," Erik said, his head turning from side to side-- no peripheral vision in this damned thing, he was full of blind spots. But the kitchen was his. He dragged the rest of the pots off the rack, beating away the nearest zombies.

"We-- _need_ \-- the cure," Charles gasped, but the zombies were covering Shaw now, holding him between them, and Erik froze in place as he realized Shaw's end had finally come.

One of the zombies started gnawing on Shaw's head, ripping out a mouthful of hair. A patch of scalp came away with it as Shaw screamed. Another zombie began slamming his fist into Shaw's head, and when Shaw pitched onto the ground, the zombies followed him, cracking his skull open on the floor.

It wasn't the vengeance Erik had promised himself. It wasn't the death Erik had meant to give him. It was worse than that. So much worse. But when the first zombie took its mouthful of grey matter, its chin stained with blood and gore, Charles screamed, collapsing against Erik. Erik shuddered and clutched Charles to him, holding on as tightly as he could.

"Oh, God," Charles gasped, clawing at Erik's shirt. "Oh, God, Erik, I felt-- I felt--"

Erik couldn't tear his eyes from the sight. It was over. It was truly over, after a lifetime of rage and hatred.

Charles grabbed him by both arms, his fingers digging in to rigid muscle as he tried to gain Erik's attention. " _Erik_! All these minds, we have to get out, we have to get _out_. Erik, for God's sake! He's _dead_ , Erik, we have to _get out_!"

"Yes," Erik breathed, finally allowing himself to look away from the grisly sight on the floor. "Yes. _Out_. Now."

The zombies were at the windows, the doors, too many to push past safely. But Erik didn't need to use a door; he grabbed the icebox itself and slammed it through the wall, creating a space for them.

He grabbed Cerebro's case with his power, the other suitcases as well, and dragged Charles through the new opening, using the suitcases and his leftover arsenal of pans to beat away any zombies that tried to approach. The zombies were converging on the car as well, but that was easy to manage; Erik flung the doors open, the hood up, the boot open, the zombies on the car flying far away. The suitcases went into the boot, which Erik closed; the hood slammed down again; Erik shoved Charles into the passenger seat and leaped over the hood of the car, diving in, the doors shut, _safe_.

He started the engine, and he didn't even try to avoid running over zombies as they raced back to the highway. They were still headed for the house, all of them, it seemed like, as though they'd been drawn there...

Charles doubled over, clutching his head, screaming. They were getting further away, they were _leaving_ , what-- "What?" Erik gritted out. "Charles-- Charles, what is it, what's happening--"

"No," Charles screamed, "no, _stop_ , I don't want to feel, _I don't want to feel_ \-- they're, her brain, Erik, they're, _Frost, no, stop, stop, I can't help you_ \--"

Erik slammed the car into park and turned to face Charles. He was screaming, shaking, and as Erik watched, Charles's nose began bleeding, his ears.

Whatever she was broadcasting in her death throes, Erik could feel none of it. And he knew why, immediately-- the helmet. He tugged it off his head. Erik could hear a cry, faintly, like an echo. It wasn't Frost's ability that was making it hurt Charles this badly; it was Charles's own.

Erik shoved the helmet down on Charles's head, and Charles jerked away, breath caught up in his throat, both hands immediately going to the base of the helmet to push at it. Erik grabbed Charles by the wrists, yanking them away, and when Charles tried to turn his head to _shake_ the helmet off, Erik got both of Charles's wrists in his hand and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, shoving him back against the passenger door, holding him still as best he could. The zombies around them all stood still for a moment, and Erik could feel the scream inside his head, too, Frost's mental cry of anguish.

When the cry stopped, when the zombies began stumbling around again, when they finally began to move in random directions instead of all going toward the farmhouse, Erik pulled back. Charles shoved at him, still fighting, and Erik allowed it, only blocking the worst of Charles's strikes. As soon as he was over behind the wheel again, Charles seemed to realize his freedom was in his own hands, and he pushed the helmet off his head, throwing it away from him. It banged against the windshield, leaving a spiderweb of cracks before rolling across the dashboard and stopping.

Charles buried his hands in his hair and moaned. Erik pulled the helmet off the dashboard and, after staring at it for a moment, put it back on. They had miles and miles to go before they'd be anywhere resembling safe. He needed all the power he could get.


	11. Chapter 11

A few minutes later, Charles whispered, "Thank you."

He was curled into the passenger seat, sideways, hugging himself. He wasn't touching Erik. His head rested against the seat, and he was still shaking. Erik couldn't afford to look at him; there were fewer zombies than there had been immediately surrounding the farmhouse, but there were still so many, walking down the road, at the side of the road, milling around. So many, all _here_ ; had Azazel teleported dozens of them in just for this, or...?

"Thank you?" Erik repeated. "For what?"

"For the..." He reached up, reached out, but stopped shy of touching the helmet itself. "For trying to protect me. Frost's death..." He shuddered. "I could feel it. I could feel them in her head." He rubbed at his face with both hands. "In this case... literally."

He didn't need to elaborate. Erik could still see the zombies eating Shaw's brain, still had that picture burned into his mind. He probably always would.

"I don't know what would have happened if I'd been locked into her mind when she died," Charles whispered. "So I... thank you." He finally rested a hand on Erik's shoulder. "Thank you."

"I would have done anything to keep you safe," Erik murmured. "I'm sorry that it frightened you."

Charles managed part of a laugh. "Frightened. Yes. This has all been frightening."

"At least we know who, now. And why. What he must have told the humans he was working with--" Erik shook his head. "What they must have thought when it all went wrong. And then the _spread_ of this disease. Teleporting the infected all over the world... my God, Charles."

"Yes." Charles took a breath and finally sat up straight, facing out the window again, cringing every time they passed another zombie. "While we're having it all out... I knew you wanted me to hold Azazel. I didn't realize you meant to do _that_."

"He could have separated us. He could have taken you anywhere, dropped you from a thousand feet in the air. He was the wild card that needed to be dealt with immediately." Erik turned his head to look at Charles. "But I didn't know it would hurt you."

"Well." Charles crossed his arms over his chest. "I can honestly say that the brain trauma I felt after that was worse."

Erik grimaced. He swerved to avoid another zombie; Charles buckled his safety belt at last. "How long did you hold on to Shaw?"

"For as long as there was a mind left," Charles said, rubbing at his face with both hands. "There is a cure. He wasn't carrying it. God, the _arrogance_ of that man. He never dreamed I could hold Azazel, not with Emma there. He didn't know how many would be at the farmhouse."

Erik blinked, gesturing out the windshield. The zombies' numbers had thinned with every mile they put between themselves and the farmhouse, but there had still been more of them than he could ever have hoped to counter, without his ability. "He didn't know? This wasn't because of him?"

Charles shook his head. "I don't know how, or why... but this wasn't his doing, Erik."

"The one thing that wasn't." Erik sighed. "You were saying, about a cure."

"The bastard didn't have its formula memorized. And you can be damned sure he didn't tell it to Quested, or Azazel, or even Frost." Charles sighed with frustration. "Of course, he did know exactly where the documentation was."

"Where?"

"Russia. His laboratory in Russia."

"God. It might as well be in outer space, for all that we could get to Russia through all this."

"If there's anyone left to call, we could try to alert authorities. But that avenue may be lost to us, yes." They went on in silence a while longer before Charles murmured, "At least we know there _is_ a cure." Two zombies ahead; Erik sped up, slamming into them. Their bodies burst apart like cordwood, and Erik vibrated the metal chassis of the car to shake off the leftover gristle. "How long do you think we can go, tonight?"

"I don't know. At least we managed a little sleep last night."

"Only to wake up to that." Charles hugged himself. "I don't know how I'm going to sleep at all, tonight."

"We'll find a way."

Charles didn't manage a smile, but he did reach over, clumsily patting Erik's knee. "You've been very resourceful this whole trip. Thank you."

"We both have. There hasn't been much choice."

"No." Charles took a deep breath, squeezing Erik's knee one last time before letting go. "As far as we can, then."

"As far as we can."


	12. Chapter 12

As they drove further and further away, the zombie population dwindled to nothing once again. There was still evidence of the outbreak-- abandoned cars, smoke from ruined towns, dead bodies in the road-- but for the most part, all that was required for the drive was an occasional stop for siphoning fuel from another abandoned vehicle.

Route 66 went all the way to Chicago, but there was no way Erik was taking Charles through an area that densely populated. Shaw was certain to have sent Azazel there. He turned off at U.S. 24 and took that east, through Illinois and Indiana and into Ohio.

Erik kept the helmet on throughout the drive, ridiculous as it felt. It was safer that way, better not to feel his power waxing and waning with every populated area they passed. Charles dozed, on and off, but every time he came awake again, he jumped. He'd look around, almost frantic at first, but after a few minutes he'd settle down again.

"Don't let me fall asleep anymore," Charles said at the last rude awakening, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "Not until we stop somewhere for the night. You must be exhausted, you've been driving all day."

"It went faster once Route 66 opened up." Four lanes now, two to either side. Most of the abandoned cars were on the shoulder or in the right-hand lane; Erik had been able to pick up a great deal of speed. "We've been making good time. We don't need to stop yet."

"You're not going to make it all the way through to Westchester tonight. And-- as abandoned as it looks here, I don't know that we can trust me to drive. One ill-timed zombie and we could end up flying off a cliff."

"It's been miles and miles since we've seen a hill, let alone a cliff." Erik looked over at him. "But you're probably right about Westchester. Another hour, though. I can manage that."

"I can't." Charles stared straight ahead, out the windshield. "Erik. Please. If we could just stop..."

"You could sleep," Erik offered.

" _No._ " Charles swallowed as Erik looked over at him, concerned now. "No. I can't sleep again."

Erik pulled to the side of the road, turning fully to look at Charles. He seemed fine. He _was_ fine. He had to be. The alternative-- it didn't bear thinking about.

"Charles..."

Charles snapped off his safety belt and reached for Erik, his hands sliding onto Erik's shoulders. "I can't sleep because I hate _waking_. Either I wake because I feel those minds, ill or fallen or-- worse," he winced, "or I wake, and I can't feel _anything_. No zombies. Not you, with this damned thing--" he tapped the bottom of the helmet with a fingertip, "not _anything_. Just me, alone..." He'd gone a little pale, and Erik could feel a tremor in his hands. "As if nothing else is real. Has ever _been_ real. I have to look at you to be certain you're still there."

"I'm still here." Erik caught Charles's hand in his, and after a moment's adjustment thanks to the helmet, managed to kiss his knuckles. "I'm here."

"I can't feel you. I can't feel anything." Charles wrenched his hand away. "If I asked you to take the helmet off..."

"When we're safe for the night. I promise." Erik tried for a smile. "It's not as though I was going to be able to sleep in it."

"Don't." Charles covered his mouth with his hand for a moment, shaking his head. "You, sleeping in that thing-- I'd end up watching you all night, waking you up just to be certain you were still alive."

"Help me find us somewhere to sleep," Erik urged him. "And when we're safe, I'll take it off."

Charles eyed him for a moment, then nodded. "All right. Keep driving, then, and we'll get off the interstate the next time we can. I'm not feeling anything anywhere around us-- God, I don't even know what state we're in. Where are we?"

"Ohio."

Charles nodded. "All right. Let's see what we can find."


	13. Chapter 13

It was an abandoned motel, not unlike the one they'd stayed in when they were back in Roswell. The power was out here, too, but Charles could confirm it was clear of zombies, and Erik had no difficulty getting them into one of the empty rooms.

They brought in suitcases, and Erik went to the back of the room, looking briefly out the window before sealing the window shut with as much power as he could bring to bear.

"In the morning we'll find somewhere to resupply, before moving on," Erik said.

"If there _is_ anywhere. With widespread power outages, we can't count on anything here. Not even running water." Charles glanced to the bathroom. "If the water's still running, though, we should refill anything we can. The thermoses, at least."

"Agreed. Shall I bring them inside?"

"Please."

Erik headed out to the car, coming back in with their thermoses. The water was working well enough to fill them, though the pressure was discouragingly low. Once filled, he set them down on the table, slipped out of his jacket, and took a seat at the foot of the nearest bed.

In an instant, Charles was beside him, his hands reaching for the helmet. "Now? Please, Erik. We're alone." His palms flattened against the sides of it. " _I'm_ alone. I don't want to be alone anymore."

Erik nodded, and Charles slid the helmet off him, his eyes closing, his entire body relaxing. The relief of having the heavy thing off him was nothing compared to the look on Charles's face. He sagged forward slightly, a line between his eyebrows smoothing out at last. "Thank you," he whispered. He opened his eyes, finally, and set the helmet aside. "That damn thing." He shuddered, looking at it, glancing away, and then looking at it again-- it was as though he couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Useful," Erik murmured, looking at it as well. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Charles flinching; he turned back and rested a hand on Charles's knee. "That it blocks whatever it is the zombies do to our abilities."

"He must have known. He must have expected that disruption. But he made only this one helmet. If he'd had one made for everyone--" Charles grimaced. "I can't imagine why he didn't. Not that I'm not thankful..."

"Maybe we shouldn't be thankful about that." Erik turned, picked the helmet up again. He looked carefully at the face of it, the curves and points. "We'd all be better-equipped to deal with the threat if we knew our powers would protect us. What happens when we get back to Westchester? What happens if they find us there? Angel without her wings, Raven locked into a human form, Sean mute..."

"Darwin. I wonder what would happen to him." For a moment, Charles's curiosity lit his expression, but just as quickly he shook his head. "It won't work for me. It'll keep their minds out, but it cuts me off from my ability."

"I was never sure whether your ability even _had_ a counter."

"Apparently it does. And actually _wearing_ that--" Charles reached out for Erik, and Erik pulled Charles close, holding on to him. "Trapped. I felt _trapped_. Like I'd never be free again, never _feel_ anything again..."

"I'm sorry." Erik stroked his hands up and down Charles's back. "I did it to protect you. When I saw you bleeding, I was afraid--" He shook his head. "It was the only thing I could think of."

"Don't be sorry about that. I needed it. I lived through Shaw's death; hers was--" He swallowed. "I don't want to think what might have happened."

Erik didn't, either. He pulled Charles to him, and Charles held on, face pressed against Erik's shoulder.

"I know you'll have to wear it in the morning," Charles whispered. "I know you'll need it if we run into more of them. But please. While we're safe, while we're alone. I need to feel you. I need to know you're real."

"I'm real," Erik insisted. He took a deep breath, deciding-- and then drew back, taking Charles's hand, pulling Charles's fingers up to his temple. "Come in."

Charles's eyes flew open. "Erik..."

"It's been a long day, a hard one, you won't like everything you see in my mind, but if what you need is--" He swallowed. "This. If you need it, Charles, then yes. Come in, if you want."

"I want everything," Charles said, his voice thick. "If you're sure...?"

"I'm sure." Erik nodded. "We're going to get back to Westchester. We'll find a way through this. But you're right about tomorrow. We'll both be safer if I can actually protect us." He covered Charles's hand with his, felt Charles's palm cool against his cheek. "Tonight, though... I don't want you to feel alone."

Charles nodded, eyes closing again-- and then he was _there_ , his voice in Erik's mind.

«Thank you... Erik, _thank you_ , yes, God, I needed this...»

«What are you seeing? What do you feel?» Erik was nervous, still, a little, but most of his question was built around curiosity. «What is it like for you?»

Charles slid his hand around to the back of Erik's neck. «I can show you...»

«Then show me.»

The room _changed_ , around them: Erik felt as if he were standing, looking around a warm summer day, a crisp afternoon in autumn, a cold, dark night in the dead of winter. It was spring, and the sky was full of eager light.

He recognized these places: his parents' home, before the war, before the camps and before Shaw, and there was his mother, coming in with a blanket, smiling at him with love before kissing his forehead and gently closing the door behind her. A Tuesday in France, waiting for someone to give him the next piece of this lifelong puzzle, the taste of a perfect _cafe au lait_ on his tongue. Spring in Santorini, a step behind Shaw, but for that one split-second, too awed by his surroundings to pull himself away. The steps of the Lincoln Memorial, with Charles...

«It's everything,» Charles thought, and the world was swirling so fast around Erik now that he grabbed hold of Charles's voice with both hands, grounding himself with Charles's presence. «I'm not looking for the things that hurt you, not now. I just want to know you. All the parts of your life you've let yourself forget, that you thought didn't matter. They do matter, Erik. You're all of this. All of it.»

The rush of mental images eased back, and Erik leaned in, took Charles's shoulders in his hands. He kissed Charles, deep, desperate for reasons other than the situation, the adrenaline fear of running for their lives. He _needed_ this, needed the _connection_.

He needed _Charles_ , and maybe he always had. Maybe he always would.

«I'm here,» Charles thought, stronger and stronger in Erik's mind, levering him down on the bed. «Let me.»

«Let you...?» Erik dropped back, tilted his head when Charles leaned down on top of him and kissed his neck. «Let you what...?»

«You need me. I need you just as much.» Charles's hands went to the hem of Erik's shirt, tugging it up from his waistband. «Let me give you something, _everything_. I want to be with you. I want...» His hand finally found its way under Erik's shirt, his palm sliding against bare skin. Erik groaned, arching his back-- Charles was right. He needed all of this, _more_.

«Yes,» he thought, and Charles wasted no time getting him out of his shirt. He bent his head down, kissed the hollow of Erik's throat first. More and more, then, the planes of his chest, the straight line of Erik's collarbone. His mouth was everywhere, tasting everything-- he glanced up at Erik's face before drawing his tongue slowly, carefully, around the rim of Erik's nipple.

Erik reached down, catching the back of Charles's neck in his hand. "Yes," he breathed.

«I know,» Charles thought to him. He smiled, licking his lower lip; Erik nearly went cross-eyed from wanting that tongue on him so badly. «I know that, too... Erik, please. Tonight, let me show you. Trust me. I know you, I know you _so well_ , I want to share this with you. All of it.»

Erik's heart was pounding, but he nodded. He couldn't tell Charles _I trust you_ \-- he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to say it to anyone, and mean it-- but he could tell Charles, «Yes.»

Charles was fast with their clothes, then, his own shoved into a messy pile on the floor, Erik's following soon after. Erik watched and moved where Charles put him as Charles pressed Erik's legs apart, lay down between them. His mouth was... God, his mouth was nearly _there_ , and as Erik thought it, Charles turned his head to the side and kissed Erik's inner thigh.

«You haven't...?» Erik slid his fingers through Charles's hair. «You haven't done this before?»

«Only a thousand times, in fantasies,» Charles said, smiling. «Let's see how different it is to have you in my mouth for real.»

He bent his head down and took a testing little lick, from the base of Erik's cock up to the tip, but even that was enough to have Erik dropping back against the bed, gasping. It'd been different than this for him: men for hire, hotel rooms if he had the time, dark alleys or loud rooms in brothels if he didn't. Usually he didn't. No one lingered, in Erik's experience. No one licked a slow, steady path up the underside of his cock, over and over again, just learning what Erik tasted like.

It was nothing he'd ever felt before, warmth and pleasure and a sudden, almost-drowsy feeling, like they had all the time in the world. Like it was worth taking their time at this, the rest of the world be damned. Erik rocked against Charles's mouth, he couldn't help himself, he needed _more_ somehow. More of Charles's tongue, slipping and sliding against him; more of his lips-- he needed _more_ , but he didn't want it to be over so soon...

«Leave that to me,» Charles thought. He lifted Erik's cock with one hand and licked around the head, again and again, swirling his tongue around it until Erik moaned out loud from the tease. «Charles...»

«Tell me,» Charles answered. «I'll give you anything you want, just tell me...»

Erik shuddered beneath him, and sank both hands into his hair. «I want you to suck me... but I want it this way. Slow. Can you do that? _Will_ you do that?»

«Let's find out,» Charles thought at him, the words a tease, and he opened his mouth, sliding his tongue over his lips one last time. And then all that perfect wet heat was taking Erik _in_ , surrounding him, the head of his cock disappearing into Charles's mouth while Erik watched.

It was gorgeous. Erik couldn't help groaning, couldn't help wanting _more_ , but he let Charles set the pace. He'd said _slow_ , and Charles had said _let me_ , and this was-- this was so many things he'd wanted from Charles, and had never thought he'd get...

Charles sank down lower, his mouth opening wider to take more of Erik's cock. Erik reached up, his thumb at the corner of Charles's mouth. "Do you have any idea how _beautiful_ that is...?"

«I hope so,» Charles thought, and Erik sucked in a breath; he'd forgotten, somehow, that Charles could _answer_ him while his mouth was occupied. «You taste amazing. Can I share that with you...?»

«I'm not likely to say no to anything right now,» Erik thought, a little giddy, a little addled. Charles sank lower and lower on his cock, his tongue working against the underside. Everything that felt good, Charles made better; everything Erik could even manage a fleeting moment's thought of _I want more_ for, Charles gave him.

And then Erik could _feel_ it-- a trace of warmth, the salt and musk of his own cock, the way it made Charles feel to taste it for himself. He was aroused, his own cock rubbing against the sheets, and Erik gasped, rocking up into Charles's mouth, unable to stop himself.

«You feel-- it's so good for you-- you like this,» Erik thought, while Charles wrapped a hand around the base of his cock. «You like doing this to me, can you feel _that_? Can you feel what this does to me?» He rested a hand on the back of Charles's head, lightly, not trying to guide him. «I want you, I always wanted you, you're so good, this is _so good_ , Charles, _yes_ \--»

«--yours,» Charles answered, «it's yours, _I'm_ yours, you're staying with me, you're _staying_ ,» and the relief and the happiness from that leaked into Erik's mind, mingled with the relief he'd been trying not to let himself feel. «Staying.»

«Yes,» Erik thought-- and now, with Charles's mouth moving up and down on his cock, Charles's hand working the lower part of his shaft, it was getting more and more difficult to think in real words. He was rapidly reaching the point where all he could do was _feel_ , and he gave Charles that-- those feelings, brought up to the forefront of his mind, the swirl of lust and desire and affection he'd felt from the beginning, the incredible pleasure Charles was giving him with this, what it did to him to hear Charles think _Yours_...

He was so close he couldn't even put it into words-- but Charles moaned all around him, his hand moving faster, his tongue pressed hard against Erik's cock, and Erik could feel a warm, radiant sense of acceptance, approval-- permission, encouragement-- Charles _wanted_ him to, wanted him to come like this, just like this, into his mouth, letting him taste that and share that taste, too--

Erik couldn't possibly hold back, not with that all that mental encouragement. He gave one more thrust into Charles's mouth and came, panting as the sensation overwhelmed him, crying out when Charles's tongue stroked _up_ , pressing hard against a spot that nearly brought tears to Erik's eyes. Erik was still coming as he collapsed back onto the bed, his whole body shaking with it, Charles, _God_ , Charles-- «yes,» was all Erik could think, and then suddenly he was being drawn up to that peak _again_ , pleasure surrounding him, a warm hand surrounding him...?

He sat up to look, and saw Charles's shoulder moving-- _oh_. It wasn't a hand on him, it was Charles's hand on his _own_ cock. He was still sucking the last few drops from Erik's as he jerked himself off, and the idea that he wanted Erik's cock in his mouth while he came-- Erik knew his own mouth was hanging open, that he was staring, but what else could he do? He could feel both of them now, the incredible pleasure Charles was feeling from riding out Erik's orgasm and then urging his body to its own, the almost too-good sensation of his cock still in Charles's mouth after all of that.

He lay back; he might have already been spent himself, but he was desperate to know where Charles's orgasm would take _him_. And maybe that was what pushed Charles over the edge, because he came, his shout muffled around Erik's cock, and Erik closed his eyes as Charles's orgasm washed over him, _through_ him, left him feeling as wrecked and shaken as though he'd had another one himself.

All Erik could do was lie there, trying to catch his breath. Charles managed a little better, crawling up the bed until he was nestled at Erik's side, his head on Erik's chest, one leg flung over Erik's thighs. They'd made a mess of the sheets, but Erik couldn't bring himself to care, much less do anything about it. Charles simply brushed his lightly-stubbled cheek against Erik's shoulder, sighing.

"Could you sleep now?" Erik murmured.

"For a while," Charles answered, but he was yawning already, his lashes fluttering as he settled down to do just that.


	14. Chapter 14

In the morning, Erik woke first. He stayed still for several minutes, waiting to see if Charles was having any bad dreams or difficulties, but he seemed to be sleeping as heavily as possible, as though he hadn't in days.

It was only fair. Neither of them had. Erik was gentle as he slipped out from under Charles, kissing his forehead as he moved away. «I'm still here,» Erik promised. «I'm going to try and run enough water to wash up. Rest if you can...»

Charles shifted, though, sitting up as Erik got out of bed. «No,» he thought, yawning and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. «No, before we go... I want to--» He finished the thought aloud. "--Use Cerebro again, to contact Hank. We made good time yesterday. We might be able to make it to Westchester tonight."

Erik nodded. "All right."

He was sparing with the water, but it felt good to rub himself down with a washcloth anyway. It might come to this in Westchester; it might come to this for a long time, this or worse. He'd adapt-- he'd lived through worse-- but it was difficult to imagine humanity recovering from this sort of devastation.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door; Charles was waiting just outside. He'd drawn on last night's singlet and boxers, and the look was more than slightly arresting-- maybe because it was supposed to be meant as modesty. All Erik could think was that he'd waited months to see Charles this way, even _this_ much of him, and now he'd had so much more...

For his part, Charles dropped his gaze down over Erik's body, equally caught up in the sight of Erik wearing nothing but a towel. But then he seemed to shake himself, reaching out, taking Erik's hand. "Forgive my distraction..."

"Forgiven," Erik said, a trace of a smile on his face.

"I came over here to say... If there's a cure, then there's hope." He squeezed Erik's hand. "Your emotions were bleeding over. I couldn't help but feel them."

"I imagine you could have guessed what I was thinking even without your ability." Erik shook his head. "I suppose it is your turn to be optimistic. I don't see that our chances are very good, Charles. Even mutants can't form a defense force if the zombies can disrupt our abilities."

"They can't disrupt you, now. And when we get to Westchester, Hank may be able to figure out what exactly in the helmet protects you. He may be able to create more." Charles grimaced. "Much as that would be disconcerting for me."

"You may need it, in the long run," Erik said, trying to be gentle, reaching up to stroke Charles's hair. "If their numbers are too many, if the sickness is worse than the silence..."

"No." Charles caught Erik's hand and held it. "The sickness can't be worse than that. I was in that house with you, remember? I'll take the sick feeling from the zombies if it means never having to wear that damn thing again." Charles was calm, clear, but his fingers tightened on Erik's hand, more and more. "I tried to tell you last night, but you're not a telepath, you can't imagine-- it was like being blindfolded, wearing earplugs, being underwater so I couldn't feel anything. It was like every sense leaving me, and the world turning into an empty shell of itself. There was no way to know who I was anymore, no way of feeling anyone else anymore. I thought I might never find my way out of it-- or that when the helmet came off, anything would come back."

Erik dragged his hand out of Charles's grip. "If it comes to it again-- if it's the helmet or your life-- you'll wear it. I'll see to it."

"Then we'd better make certain it doesn't come to that again, hadn't we?" Charles narrowed his eyes. "Get dressed while I set up Cerebro again."

Erik nodded, heading for his suitcase while Charles struggled Cerebro onto the foot of the bed. By the time Erik was fully-dressed, Charles had Cerebro ready, the skullcap on his head once more, the switches all in their starting positions. The coil was waiting for Erik's magnetism, and he took hold of it, generating that pulsating magnetic field again. It was almost beginning to feel familiar, the rhythm of it, and when Cerebro lit up, Charles nodded and began to turn the dials.

In a few minutes he'd found what-- rather, _whom_ \-- he'd been looking for. Erik could hear Charles's half of the conversation again, the way he had in the farmhouse in Missouri. «Hank? Hank, it's me... Can you hear me, Hank? Hello?»

He sagged with relief almost immedately. «Is everyone there? Still safe?»

"How many of them made it?" Erik asked quietly, his focus still tightly joined to his coil. "Is there any sign of infection?"

«An update on our status, please,» Charles sent, and then went silent for a moment. To Erik, he tried, «All of our recruits--»

Erik gasped, barely maintaining Cerebro's power supply. "Too close," he gritted out. "I'm too close for you to send directly, you'll have to speak aloud--"

"All of our recruits," Charles said out loud, his voice sounding far away. "Moira. Taine. Levine was infected. They shot him. Hank took a blood sample. He didn't revive..." Charles's eyes closed again. «We're on our way back. We'll be there tonight, if the road is as clear as it was yesterday.» Again, the bleedover telepathy got through to Erik, but it didn't hurt the way it had when Charles was focused directly on him. Charles snorted softly. «You'd make good time too, if you were being pursued by hordes of zombies.»

Erik could hardly argue the point, and he'd been driving as quickly as the roads and the vehicle permitted. He was grateful, now, for the loan of a government automobile; it wasn't pretty, but the engine was reliable and _powerful_.

«We had a run-in with Shaw. There's good news, and bad...» Charles paused. «Yes, good news first. Shaw no longer... he's no longer a threat to us. But he was responsible for this disease and its spread.» Another pause. «And there's the worst of our news, yes. There's a cure, but Shaw kept it in a laboratory in Russia. Still, Hank-- still, we know that there's a cure. If you can begin attempts to replicate it...» Charles exhaled softly. «I knew you would be. Thank you, Hank. We need to get on the road. We'll try to make it home tonight.»

Charles dialed everything down, finally shutting Cerebro down and removing the skullcap. Erik put the coil away, and when Charles had everything in its right place, he closed up the suitcase and set it on the ground.

"Do you think there's enough water I could manage a sponge bath myself?" Charles asked, once rhe'd taken a few breaths to settle himself.

"I do, yes."

"Then let me do that while you start packing us up to go."

"Agreed."

While Charles ran what little water he could, Erik dressed and began packing their things-- packing for the last time, he dearly hoped. He left the door open as he put suitcases and thermoses and Cerebro in the car, and while he was outside at the car, he checked over the things he'd been using as weapons. Crowbar, lug wrench-- both still in good condition. He'd done his best to reinforce the car's frame and chassis during the drive, but he swept a hand over the metal now as well, removing any dents and scrapes that he could. If he lightened the car with his ability, it might be able to run faster; maybe today they could make even better time...

But that was all he needed to do here, and he stepped back into the hotel room just as Charles came out of the bathroom in a towel of his own, looking a bit brighter as well as clean-shaven. He rubbed a hand over his face when Erik looked at him. "You must have been getting tired of it," he said softly.

"I wasn't inclined to criticize," Erik murmured back. He walked over to Charles anyway, cupping Charles's cheek in his hand. Charles tipped his head down against Erik's palm. Not the closest shave Charles had ever gotten, no doubt, but that he'd done it for _him_ \-- Erik couldn't stop himself from bending down to kiss Charles, arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him close. Charles melted against him, wrapping his arms around Erik's neck.

"We should," Charles breathed, between kiss after kiss, "we should... go..."

"I know." Erik kissed Charles again, backing him up step by step until Charles's thighs hit the edge of the bed. "They're waiting for us in Westchester."

"Yes. Erik..."

"Did you know?" Erik ran his hands down Charles's chest, scratching lightly over his nipples. Charles drew in a breath, his hands finding the fabric of Erik's shirt, holding it. "Did you know, all that time, how badly I wanted you?"

"I knew you _wanted_ me," Charles said, breaking away to catch his breath. "I didn't know if you'd ever want to act on it."

"If I can't have you at the end of the world, then when?"

Charles's smile was devastating, so warm and knowing that it nearly made Erik's knees buckle. "My thoughts exactly."

The hell with it. Erik was holding Charles, _wanting_ Charles, while Charles was wearing a towel and nothing else. They ought to go, he knew that, but the world was ending-- the world was _over_. They could steal another few minutes; it wouldn't matter to anyone but them, and it meant _everything_ to Erik now.

He pushed Charles back, onto the bed, and this time it was his turn. He knelt down, pressed Charles's thighs apart, and hooked his fingers under the towel, unwrapping it from Charles's hips.

They'd had each other in the darkness, but there was enough light coming in from the windows and the open door that Erik could _see_ Charles now, really see him, the almost-reddish brush of his short curls; the length of his cock, hard now and resting against his thigh. The foreskin covering the head-- still novel, to Erik, despite the men he'd hired who'd had them.

He looked up at Charles, who was grinning down at him. "Sometimes it's the differences that fascinate us, isn't it?" Charles murmured, putting his hand down at his cock, gently taking his shaft in hand and drawing the foreskin back. "If you're planning what I think you're planning... be gentle, please." He gave himself a long, showy stroke, the foreskin gliding back down over the head, and then rolling back again. Erik's mouth was nearly watering. Differences, yes, or perhaps it was only that this was _Charles_. "You do have rather a lot of teeth."

Erik laughed despite himself, and Charles reached down to his face, cupping his chin, his thumb rubbing back and forth over Erik's lower lip. "There. Watching you laugh-- can I share that with you? What it's done for me, every time I've seen it..."

"Show me," Erik said, immediately, putting his hands on Charles's knees and slowly sliding them up. "I want to see."

Charles beamed down at him and touched his temple, and Erik could see it: his smile, his laugh, rare at first, but happening more and more often while they wandered the country, looking for mutants together. They weren't _alone_ anymore, and their partnership was compelling, the ease with which they found themselves reacting to one another unexpected and welcome.

The first real laugh Erik had given Charles was after a night out drinking, their recruit shaking her head when they made her an offer, and Charles had toasted Erik with _To free will and, let's be bloody honest, better success along the way,_ and Erik had grinned at him, laughed for him, drank down his beer and licked the foam from his lip. It'd been all Charles could do not to tackle him, then and there, wiping all the memories around them so he could kiss Erik in as much privacy as they needed...

«I wanted you then, too,» Erik answered, bending his head down, kissing the inside of Charles's thigh. «Do you want to look? Do you want to see my memory of that night?»

«Yes. Oh, please, yes...»

Erik recalled it for him, or perhaps Charles's own power brought it more sharply into focus for them both. Charles, a bit disappointed at losing the mutant, but still buoyant with hope and enthusiasm for the future and for _them_. For all of Erik's misgivings about their position as a so-called "mutant division" of the CIA, he believed in _Charles_ , and if the government turned on them, Erik believed, then and now, that they could still have each other. That they could continue this without government help, if need be.

Shaw was a minor speck in his periphery, and for once he wasn't going to allow himself to feel guilty about that. Right now, the world was Charles, and home, and brotherhood, and if it was a weakness to allow himself that comfort, then by God, tonight he'd be weak.

He felt weaker and weaker as Charles drank, as his hair grew soft and curled while he started to sweat from the alcohol and the heat, as he licked his lower lip again and again, making Erik dream about holding him against the bar and sweeping his tongue over Charles's lip. To hell with everyone in the bar. Erik could defend them against anything, _would_ defend them against anything, would never allow Charles to know a moment's harm or hurt if he could manage it...

«Thank you,» Charles thought, drifting out of Erik's memory. He reached down, carded his fingers through Erik's hair. «Thank you for that, for _all_ of that, for feeling that way, for sharing with me...»

Erik nodded, and God, if Charles wanted feelings, now he could have them all. Erik bent forward, tongue wetting down his lips one last time, mouth opening wide, and he put a hand on Charles's cock and drew his foreskin back gently before sinking his mouth down on Charles's cock, mindful of Charles's plea from earlier-- _be gentle, please. You do have rather a lot of teeth..._

He was careful with his teeth, sucking gently as he worked his way down Charles's shaft. Above him, Charles's hands made tight fists in Erik's hair, and a flutter of concern whipped through Erik's mind-- « _sorry didn't mean just feels so good yes please please--_ » before he eased that grip, spreading his legs as wide as he could, stifling his sounds behind a bitten lip. Erik couldn't see it, but he knew the sound well, and he pinned Charles's hips against the bed, sucking harder, working Charles's cock as well as he knew how.

Unlike Charles, he didn't have hundreds of people's fantasies and memories to draw on for this; he only had his own experiences, and he only knew one way to do this. They'd learn more together, but Charles's eager gentleness from last night wasn't what Erik knew to do, and so Charles got more: faster, urgent sucking, Erik's head bobbing quickly up and down, Erik's hands tight on Charles's hips, not coaxing the pleasure from Charles but _demanding_ it.

«Erik,» Charles called out, his thoughts forming the shape of a plea. «Erik, I can't bear it can't stand it _too much_ , please, Erik, please--» He was shaking with the pleasure of it, his hands tight in Erik's hair once again. Not directing, not Charles: holding on. «Please, Erik, so good, please make me come, please, please _let_ me, I don't, I can't, I _need_ to--»

 _His first time,_ Erik thought in a garbled rush. He moaned around Charles's cock. «Even this, even _this_ you saved for me--»

Several thoughts fought to get through at once: «--yes _always waiting_ always yours _yes_ , Erik, saved myself for you--» as well as a more objective «--I didn't even know you then--» and then an overwhelming, overriding, « _Yes, damn it._ Yes, I'm yours, I was waiting for this before I ever even knew you,» a thought that seared Erik to his core and made him slam his mouth down on Charles's cock, again and again, until Charles was buried deep in his throat and Erik had him to the hilt.

«Mine,» Erik thought, lanced into Charles's mind as hard as he could. «You're _mine_ , Charles, you always will be, tell me, say it--»

Charles choked out a sob, trying to rock his hips up, pinned down too hard to move. « _Yes_ ,» he sent out, even his thoughts jagged and broken, but the love he felt for Erik was everywhere, it was deep inside Erik's heart as much as Charles's cock was deep in Erik's mouth, it was _his_ , _theirs_ , and they both knew it. «Yes, I'm yours, don't ever leave me, you have to stay, you have to promise me, _promise me_!»

«I promise. I _swear_ ,» Erik thought, and the thought ended Charles; he couldn't hold back for another instant, after that. He came hard, nearly choking Erik with the rush of it, the pleasure breaking against Erik until Erik thought he might be coming, too, his own cock throbbing in his trousers.

But when Charles was through, Erik eased back, and there was no damp spot in his trousers, only the aching weight of a cock that was desperate for release. "Charles," he whispered, throat so hoarse it hurt to speak. «Charles. I need you... can you...»

Charles was dazed, already collapsed across the bed, trying to catch his breath. «I never knew,» Charles thought, his words fuzzy around the edges, «is this something people do or is it only a fantasy...?» And he sent a thought to Erik, an image: Erik straddling his chest, working his cock with his hand while Charles lay there, bliss suffusing him, waiting for Erik's come to streak across his chest, his chin, his throat...

«It can damn well be something people do now,» Erik thought frantically, shoving his trousers down just enough, crawling onto the bed and straddling Charles's chest, just the way he'd done in Charles's image. Charles lay there, still, smiling, _that smile_ , and Erik had his cock in his hand in moments, couldn't have stopped himself from coming if he'd tried.

«Please,» Charles thought one more time, and Erik gasped, coming, so hard and so good he felt it all the way up his spine. And the picture of Charles, lying there, _wanting_ this, wanting Erik to take him and come on him and _mark_ him, was enough to make Erik sway on his knees, trying to press the memory into his mind so he'd never, ever lose it. He didn't think he would; he didn't see how he _could_.

The words were tricky, unfamiliar-- as much as Erik wanted to give them to Charles, he simply didn't know how. He sent the feelings, though, the affection, the warmth, everything he'd felt for Charles since the night they'd met, and Charles licked his lips, sighing with a smile as Erik climbed off him.

«I do know,» Charles thought, with dreamy clarity. «I've always known.»


	15. Chapter 15

After that, Charles did need to clean up again. Luck was with them, though; the water held out. Charles's smug pleasure radiated to Erik through the bathroom door, but Erik couldn't help thinking that he could have sensed it without Charles's power helping it along.

All the same, when Charles stepped out again, _dressed_ this time-- "better not to take chances," he'd said cheerfully-- Erik came to him immediately and kissed him hard on the mouth.

"I meant that promise," Erik murmured, when he finally let Charles go.

"I felt that," Charles said in return, his hand caressing the back of Erik's neck, "but it's good to hear you say it out loud as well."

"Are we ready to go now, do you think?"

"Yes." Charles contradicted his own agreement by wrapping his arms around Erik, nuzzling his chest for a moment before holding him tightly. Erik laughed, stroking his hand down Charles's neck, rubbing his back just between his shoulderblades. For another moment, just another stolen moment, Erik felt something as close to peace as he'd ever known.

When Charles began to tense under his hand, though, he drew back immediately. "What...?"

"No," Charles whispered, clutching at Erik's shirt. "No, not here, we were safe here, _no_ \--"

"Charles." Erik pulled him gently away, cupped Charles's face in his hands so he could look Charles in the eyes. " _Charles_. Are they coming?"

"Yes," Charles whimpered, his blue eyes wide and started and _hurting_ , all over again. Erik snarled; when this was over, he never wanted to see that look on Charles's face again.

"How many?"

"All of them. So many. Like the farmhouse," Charles moaned. "So fast. They're coming so _fast_ , there shouldn't have been, I thought we were safe, I thought we were _safe_ here--"

"Nowhere is safe, not now," Erik said. Everything was packed, everything was ready. He squeezed Charles one last time and went to the bedside table, grabbing Shaw's helmet.

" _No_ \--" Charles was half-hysterical now, grabbing Erik's arm. "Please, don't go, I need you--"

"I'm here," Erik insisted, pulling away from Charles's grasp. "I'm _here_ , Charles. But we need this. We need this."

"Please--"

Erik couldn't listen now; he was beginning to feel the zombies, too, his power flickering and fading at the very borders of his ability. He drew the helmet on, and Charles gasped, but Erik was ready for it, gripping Charles by the arms, shaking him and looking fiercely into his eyes.

"I'm here, and I'm _yours_. When we're safe, I'll take it off again. You can have all of me you want. I promise you that, Charles. I'm going to get us away from this place. Do you hear me? _Listen_ to me. _Hear_ me. I'm _here_."

Charles nodded convulsively and held onto Erik's arms, and then it was time for them to leave. Erik grabbed Charles by the hand and pulled him out of the motel room door. Every time Charles had sensed them before, Erik had had time, plenty of time to outrun any godforsaken zombie--

\--he shoved Charles behind him, quickly, as he saw the monsters coming for them. These were different; instead of the slow, stumbling creatures they'd been running from all this time, Erik could see them in the distance, some edging forward step-by-step, but some running full-tilt, as fast as a human-- _faster_.

"What in hell," Erik gaped, but Charles was shoving at him, pushing him to the car. Erik snapped out of it, threw the doors open, leapt over the hood of the car and came around to the door. Closer, _closer_ , it was ridiculous to think they wouldn't make it, the zombies were so far, they were too far, they had enough time, they _did_ \--

Erik slammed and locked both doors, and then the zombies were on them, the first wave smashing into the car as Erik got it started. He couldn't use the doors to fling them away; there were too many, at least fifteen, maybe twenty. All fast, all screaming, their teeth bloody, their bodies rotted. Erik sped away with zombies clinging to the hood, holding onto the bumper.

The hood, he could control. He slammed on the brakes and flung the hood up, and the zombie vaulted up and over the car, smashing down on the boot before falling down. Erik extended the bumper, scraping both the zombie still clinging to it and the one who'd fallen off the boot away.

And then he was speeding off, getting back onto the road, his breath coming hard. He looked over at the passenger seat, where Charles was huddled in a ball, his arms over his head.

"Charles?" Erik grabbed him by the shoulder; Charles screamed and flew back against the passenger door. Erik could hold that closed, though; Charles was in no danger of accidentally opening the door and falling into danger. " _Charles!_ I'm here--"

"No--" Charles was still fighting him, his arms flailing at Erik's hand. Erik drew back, and looked forward at the road. At the edges of the road he could see them, scattered, not a _crowd_ , but still they were coming, and he shuddered. The zombies were _chasing_ them, and some of them were faster-- _much_ faster than the rest.

The crowds should have thinned from here, they should have been leaving them behind, there was no way the zombies could have known about them-- but Charles was quaking, hands at his head, and Erik's stomach pitched and rolled as he looked at Charles. At the farmhouse, he'd thought it was Frost's cry drawing all the zombies to him, the agony of her death.

But Frost wasn't here now. And that left one thing, one _person_ who could be drawing the zombies in.

He looked around. They were going fifty miles an hour now; the zombies were far enough away, thin enough-- there might be time. He slowed to a stop, bent his head down, and took the helmet off.

Instantly Charles was on him, grabbing for him, throwing his arms around Erik's neck. "Thank God," he panted, his face wet with sweat and tears. "Thank God, it was only them, it was a whole world full of nothing but them, thank God, Erik--"

Erik closed his eyes. He didn't have time to soothe Charles; the zombies were out there, and they were getting closer. "Charles. Listen to me. Last night, at the farmhouse..."

Charles pressed even closer. His cheek rubbed against Erik's as he nodded.

"At the farmhouse, I thought it was Frost who drew them. But if it wasn't--"

Charles gasped, shoving away from Erik all at once. Erik could see in Charles's face that he'd read it, the whole idea, Erik's conviction that he'd found the answer. "No."

"Charles, please--"

" _No!_ It can't be that, it can't be me, it _can't_ \--"

"The first day, in Roswell! We were at the house; you were reading Callow's mind. And from there the zombies turned on us. They were coming to the front door by the time we left."

Charles was still shaking his head, frantic. "You can't ask me to do this. You know what it does to me, I've _told_ you what it does--"

"The farmhouse. They were coming. You used your telepathy then, too, and in the morning they were there--"

"No. Please, Erik, no..."

"And this morning. You used your telepathy last night, this morning, with me--"

"--because you said it was all right!" Charles's face was contorted now, tears streaming down his cheeks. "You _told_ me, I could feel it in you, you _wanted_ me to--"

"It was only a few minutes, at the farmhouse. Only a few minutes, and then we were free all day, all night, until you used your telepathy again. It doesn't have to last forever."

"It _is_ forever, every _moment_ in that thing is forever--"

"Charles, _look_! Look out there! There are so many of them, they're coming for us, we _need more time_!" Erik flung his arm out, his knuckles rapping against the windshield. "They're everywhere, we don't have time to spare! We need every moment's lead we can get, and if you don't put that helmet on, they'll know exactly where we are, every minute!"

"You don't know that. You _can't_ know that, you're not a scientist, you're not a geneticist, you're--"

"I'm a _survivor_ ," Erik growled, "and I'm going to see us _both_ survive this. Don't make this harder than it has to be, Charles. I'm begging you. _Please._ "

Charles stared at him. "You'll force me," he said, his voice a dull whisper. "If I say no."

"I want us to live."

"Even _knowing_ how I feel about it."

"I _need_ you to live," Erik whispered. "You know why. You _know_."

Charles gritted his teeth, clenched both hands, and closed his eyes. For a few seconds, he simply sat there, rigid, so angry Erik could almost feel reality warping around him; he could feel rage welling up inside him, like a sickness, like an old friend.

But then Charles turned to him, and the rage was gone. Charles tilted his chin up, narrowed his eyes at Erik.

"I do know. But I want to hear you say it."

The zombies were drawing closer every minute. Erik looked around wildly, and then looked back to Charles. "Is this really the time and place--"

"We don't know how in hell that helmet works. We don't know if it's damaging my ability every time I put it on." Erik's stomach rolled over; no, he _didn't_ know that, and he'd been careless, so careless.

But it was the _only option_.

"We don't know if I'll take it off and be myself, or if I'll take it off and be _nothing_. So you're going to tell me now, because there may not be another time. This may be my only chance to hear you say it and to feel that it's true." He tightened his jaw for a moment, and added, "And by God, Erik, I need to be able to feel that it's true before that goddamned helmet goes on, or I may never believe it again."

Erik launched himself forward, his mouth seeking out Charles's, and when Charles kissed him back, Erik gave Charles everything: every last meager scrap of attraction, emotion, _desperation_ , all of it, all of _him_ , whatever scarred and broken pieces were left after all the things Shaw had done to him, after Shaw's gruesome death.

"I love you," Erik whispered. "I _love_ you, Charles Xavier. Now for pity's sake-- help me save both our lives."

Charles nodded, grim but resigned, and held his hands out. Erik reached to the footwell and put the helmet in Charles's hands, and when Charles gritted out, "Drive," Erik turned back to the road and put his foot on the gas.

He heard Charles's intake of air as he bent his head down. Erik could do nothing to the zombies save for running them down, so for the few who'd made it onto the road, he did just that, trusting that he'd get the helmet back in time to repair the damage before the car became unfit to drive. He turned to look at Charles, and he could see Charles's hands trembling as he drew the helmet up. He could see the hesitation as he fitted it on, over his head.

Charles jerked backward in his seat, both hands to the sides of the helmet, but he held it on anyway, held it on as the zombies all stood still, the ones who'd been running stopping in their tracks. Some of them stopped so abruptly as to fall over; Erik swerved around bodies lying in the road, avoided as many as he could. Another few seconds, and the zombies began to disperse, walking in different directions as Erik watched, all of them going their own way. No crowds. No groups. No leaders, not even the faster zombies. Unless they were chasing someone, they were on their own.

He stopped the car again, and Charles shoved the helmet off, breathing so hard Erik feared he might hyperventilate. When Erik looked around, though, the zombies weren't reorienting to follow them. It had _worked_.

"Thank God," Erik said. "It's over."

Charles was shaking as he handed the helmet back. "We need that cure," he whispered, voice breaking. "We need it. And we need it _now_."

"We'll get it," Erik promised him. "We have to."

Charles only shook his head. "Maybe it's a good thing you're wearing the helmet," he whispered. "I don't want to know what you think our chances are."


	16. Chapter 16

"Do you know what they are?" Erik asked, much later. They were well into Pennsylvania. Here on the Turnpike there were fewer of them, but an occasional flash of movement sent Charles jerking backward, away from the passenger door, toward the center of the bench seat. "They're different."

Charles nodded a few times, jerkily, and finally exhaled as the one who'd come into sight dropped away, far behind them. "They were mutants."

Erik turned to stare at him. " _What?_ "

"Mutants. I felt it. Some of those minds I _remember_ , Erik, from all the way back at the installation in Virginia. Some of them we'd meant to recruit."

"Callow wasn't like this."

"Callow had been infected for only a few days. These people have had longer than that. And on top of that, Callow was still mostly _aware_ when we found him," Charles pointed out. "He could talk to us, he still had enough mind to have real memories. Even if they were--" Charles shuddered. "Even if they were breaking down as I read them. These-- mutant zombies-- they may have taken longer to deteriorate into... those things."

Erik let out a breath. "You're right. And they've had the time, now. If Azazel was fast. If Shaw was smart about distribution."

"He was," Charles said grimly. "I remember the pattern he took. Major cities, for many of them, and then more and more, wider and wider circles. Thank God Westchester's well away from the city. But even there, they won't be safe unless they're taking all the necessary precautions."

"You've talked to Hank the last two nights, he seemed to believe everything was in order."

Charles nodded. "Yes. Raven knows where everything is, and I managed to share a blueprint of the mansion with Hank, he'll be able to find all the hidden rooms and weapons caches."

"Weapons." Erik shook his head. "You really did plan for it to be a safe haven."

"My stepfather did," Charles said, jerking upright as they passed another zombie. "No... no, that one's normal." He groaned, nearly laughed at himself. "Normal. What it says about us, that we're thinking of some of these bloody creatures as _normal_ now, as opposed to the others..."

"Mutant zombies. Could Shaw possibly have meant for that to happen?"

"He said as much," Charles reminded him. "'Better hope they don't bite you'..."

"Insanity."

"The tip of the iceberg, with him." Charles shook his head. "I'm not sure whose mind I hated more-- his, or all the damned zombies..."

"At least his won't ever trouble you again."

Charles reached out, put his hand over Erik's on the wheel. "Erik..."

Erik slipped his hand out from under Charles's. "Not now," he said quietly. "I can't think of him now."

"All right. Then something else." Charles sat back, but at the flash of movement at the side of the road, he was quickly moving back toward the center of the bench seat. "Westchester. There are lab facilities at the mansion."

"Up to date?"

"Yes. And I'm hoping Hank will have had time to bring his own. But if not, we can still get started there."

"Good." Erik gripped the steering wheel a little more tightly. "If they find us in Westchester... if they were to infect us..."

Charles shook his head, almost convulsive in his need to disagree. "Don't talk like that. It won't happen. It _can't_."

"-- _if it happens_ ," Erik said, over Charles's protests, "we may have a little time. That might make the difference between being able to cure ourselves and-- not. We need to be prepared for the possibility."

"No one was _ever_ prepared for this possibility. _Shaw_ wasn't prepared for this possibility, or he wouldn't have been killed. This is worse than he ever expected. Supposing his cure wouldn't have worked after all?"

"Then we're saving a great deal of time by not going to Russia for it."

"Remind me again," Charles said, "which one of us is the optimist now?"

It actually made Erik laugh. "Maybe it's my turn."

"All right, then, Mr. Optimist. Ideas?"

"Body armor," Erik said immediately. "And we put Hank to work on this helmet and find out if there's a way to replicate the effects." He reached over and put a hand on Charles's knee; Charles jumped, but covered Erik's hand with his. "Maybe without the telepathy-blocking. Obviously he meant it to block the interference from the zombies. But unless the zombies' abilities are psionic, there's no need for the side effects regarding your telepathy."

"Maybe he was trying to solve two problems at once. If he didn't trust Frost..."

"Then we'd be able to separate them."

"Maybe. Let's hope." Charles curled his fingers around Erik's hand. "But if telepathy calls the zombies to us..."

"If we have a cure, we'll _want_ them called to us."

"Until then, it's a matter of choosing whether to avoid using my ability altogether or bring the scourge upon us."

Erik raised an eyebrow, glancing over. "Very poetic."

"Thank you." Charles let Erik's hand go and crossed his arms over his chest. "At the risk of sounding childish... haven't we made it to Westchester yet?"

"A few more hours still. Do you want to sleep?"

"Not while you're wearing that." Charles reached up, rapped his knuckles against the side of Erik's helmet. Erik sighed. "Couldn't you take it off for a while? Surely we're not in much danger while we're driving..."

"We're not safe enough," Erik said flatly, and Charles hesitated a moment, then shoved back into the passenger seat, closing his eyes, trying to keep his reactions down to gritting his teeth whenever a new zombie appeared.


	17. Chapter 17

Erik had spent enough of his last few years traveling to know that a destination never seems so far away as when one's almost on it. Westchester was like that; each mile felt as if it took longer than the last, until suddenly they were alone, nothing but woodlands around them, Charles clutching at Erik's knee as they drove up to the gate. "I can feel them," he breathed. "I can feel them, Erik. They're all right."

"Who?"

"All of them. Moira, Sean-- Hank, Raven, Angel, Alex. Taine." Charles groaned with relief. "I even got a whisper of Darwin before his mutation shut me out. None of them are showing any signs of infection." He glanced over at Erik. "Now the only one I can't feel is you."

"Is it safe to reach out for all those minds like that?"

"It had better be. It's a part of my ability I can't shut down, all I can do is ignore it. Since right at the moment I've been sorely lacking the opportunity to sense healthy minds, I'm not much inclined to ignore it."

Erik nodded. "All right."

Moira and Sean flanked the gate, both of them holding rifles. Sean tucked his over his shoulder; Moira still had hers trained on the car when Erik and Charles pulled up.

"It's us," Charles said. "It's still us. We're safe."

Moira squinted at Erik but finally lowered her weapon. "The helmet's throwing me," she says. "I can barely tell who you are in there."

Erik turned to look at Charles; Charles set his jaw. "She has no idea," Charles glowered. He turned back to her. "Open the gate."

"I can manage it."

"They still have power here," Charles pointed out; it was true. This late in the evening Erik could see lights on in the mansion, even from here. He wondered if that had been a beacon for the zombies, if they had come here, if Moira and Sean had had to _use_ those weapons. "Let the gears handle it this once. Easier on the mechanism." Moira was already stepping back and gesturing to Sean, and Sean hit the button to open the gate. The gate swung open, and Erik drove them inside.

"Hank said you were all right," Sean said. "How bad is it out there?"

"Bad," Erik answered.

"You'll need to debrief the rest of us when you get a chance. For now, get inside before Raven tears our heads off for keeping you," Moira told them.

"She might do it," Sean agreed. "She's been going nuts. You might want to just--" He pointed at his forehead.

"I can't. I'll explain later, but for now, we'll have to find her the old-fashioned way."

"Not so old-fashioned." Moira grabbed a walkie-talkie from her belt and pressed the 'talk' switch. "Front gate. This is MacTaggart. We've got Charles and Erik. They're coming in."

A moment later, Raven's voice came over the staticky speaker of the walkie-talkie. "Thank _Christ_. I'll meet them at the garage."

"Understood. MacTaggart out."

Charles nodded, almost managing to smile now. "We'll catch up with you both later. Thank you." He pointed forward, toward an outbuilding that Erik assumed was the garage. "That way."

The burst of motion from the mansion startled both of them, causing Erik to slam on the brakes. It was Raven, though-- only Raven-- Raven in her natural form, and she flung the garage doors open for them so Erik could park inside.

As soon as Charles and Erik were out of the car, Raven flung herself at Charles, hugging him tightly. "Thank God you're safe," she whispered. "I was so scared--"

"I was, too," Charles whispered back. "You look beautiful."

Raven jerked back and stared at him, her golden eyes wide. "What? What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing. _Nothing._ I'm just relieved to see you're all right. And that the-- that they haven't-- that there wasn't any interference, that you didn't lose your ability."

Raven glanced away for a moment, shaking her head. "I did," she said quietly. "It kept going out. Flickering off. Whenever we passed enough of them-- it looked like it took about six to do it so strongly I couldn't just shift right back from it. Half a dozen and bam, look ma, I'm human." She shook her head. "Screw being normal. I didn't know how badly I _needed_ to look like this until I couldn't anymore."

"I suspect Erik would approve," Charles said, and Erik stepped forward, nodding.

"Absolutely. He's right. You look beautiful." Erik took Raven's hand. "You always have."

"Thank you, _what_ is with the helmet?"

"Erik, surely you can take it off _now_ ," Charles said, low and urgent. "Please."

"You can do the honors if you'd like."

"I'd be afraid I might kick the damn thing into the next field, and we can't afford to damage it. Go on."

At last Erik pulled the helmet off, and Charles groaned out loud, coming forward and wrapping his arms around Erik's waist. He rested his head against Erik's chest, and Raven blinked owlishly at the both of them.

"Well," Raven said. "So. I guess _that_ happened, on the road."

"You were expecting it?" Erik asked.

"I wouldn't say expecting. But I can't say I'm surprised, either." She looked them up and down. "Pretty sure nobody's going to say boo about it. It's the end of the world. We've got other things on our minds."

Charles laughed, pulling carefully away from Erik. "I'm past caring what other people think, even our friends. Let them stare." He nodded at the car. "Let's grab Cerebro and the rest, and get inside. We have a lot of information to trade."

"You can do it the fast way," Raven offered, as Erik opened the boot and floated out Cerebro's case. "I know I made you promise not to read my mind, but, uh, _zombies_. I think that particular bet's off for now."

Charles shook his head. "I can't. We think it may be attracting the zombies."

Raven stared at him. "You think your _telepathy_ is drawing the zombies?" She came forward again, patting down his arms and chest as if she could sense any injuries that way. "Have they been chasing you? All this time?"

Erik exchanged a glance with Charles, who clenched his jaw for a moment and shook his head. "There's a counter. It's just a very unpleasant one."

"Okay, well-- let's get the smart guys in a room and deal with this. Hank and Darwin are in the lab, which is where they've been for the last two days."

"Darwin?" Erik repeated. "I didn't realize he had any lab expertise."

"He didn't, but apparently his mutation lets him learn really fast-- Hank shows him something once and he's got it, along with a bunch of stuff Hank _didn't_ show him. It's kind of creepy," Raven admitted. "Kind of like watching you."

"Thank you for that," Charles said dryly. "I don't think it's creepy at all. It seems a rather natural outgrowth of his mutation, actually-- a genius-level intellect and the ability to learn at a rapid pace would be an invaluable adaptation in the Atomic Age."

"The ability to adapt against zombies would be a more invaluable one, at the moment," Erik countered, following Raven and Charles inside.

"We think he's got that, too," Raven said. "No matter how many zombies came at us, he was the only one who didn't lose his powers."

"Fantastic," Charles said. "If that's the case, maybe we can take a blood sample and see if there's something we can use to find a cure."

"They're trying," Raven told him. "No dice so far, though, not that they've told me."

"All right. Let's get the two of us to a room, and then we'll find Hank and Darwin and pool our knowledge."

"Yeah. Your old room's waiting for you." Raven bit her lower lip and then reached out for Charles again, hugging him. "I knew you were going to make it home. I just... you had to."

"I'm here now. We both are," Charles murmured. "Come on. Let's get inside."


	18. Chapter 18

The lab was a wreck; papers were everywhere, equipment was strewn about on every available surface, and four rolling chalkboards had been brought in and were covered with calculations on both sides. As Charles, Raven, and Erik walked in, they could hear Hank and Darwin talking, their voices raised-- not in anger, Erik could tell, but in urgency.

"--but if we can't isolate the mutation in his bloodwork, how are we even going to know if that's the trigger point--"

"We already know. That _has_ to be it, we've eliminated everything else. We know Levine wasn't a mutant, not even a latent or recessive one, Moira knew his file backwards and forwards and there were _no_ abnormalities." Hank gestured broadly at the blackboard on the left. "So it's the combination of some mutant, somewhere, and human genetics, and if we knew anything about that mutant--"

"Daniel Callow," Charles cut in. "From Roswell, New Mexico. His mutation was tracking."

Neither Hank nor Darwin looked surprised to see them, but Darwin rushed over, grabbing Charles by the shoulders and looking him up and down. "You made it back," he said, and stepped back, sagging against the counter. "And you're okay. You're not infected." He looked at Erik just as sharply, though he didn't try to grab hold of him. "Either of you. Right...?"

"That's right," Erik said. "Raven says you've both been working on a cure. Are you getting anywhere?"

"Almost," Hank said. He stood, carefully; when he walked over, there was something stiff about his gait, as though he'd been injured on the way here. Charles looked down at his feet, and Erik followed suit. Hank's feet were bare, out of the shoes he'd always worn to disguise the shape of them, and bruised. Erik didn't have time to wonder what had happened as Hank went on, "Gruesome as this is going to be, we need more infected blood samples to work with. Right now, we only have Levine's."

"Unfortunately, finding more isn't going to be the problem," Charles said. "The problem is--"

"--neutralizing them without being infected ourselves, right." Darwin nodded. "I think I'm immune, so I've volunteered, but--"

"--but we absolutely cannot afford to lose you if you're wrong about that," Hank said. "We can find other ways to get blood samples. Your mutation is more useful to us in the lab now."

"It's making me nuts being cooped up in here, I gotta say," Darwin grumbled. "But he's not wrong about me and the lab." He shook his head, and for just a moment, smiled at Charles. "When you gave me that speech about unlocking hidden potential, I thought... you know, bigger scales, stronger. I didn't think, find the cure for cancer. Or zombie plague."

"I'm not going to look that gift in the mouth," Hank offered. "If the three of us are all that's left of qualified researchers..."

"Then we're wasting time. There are three things we need to figure out: one, is there a cure, two, how long do we have before no cure is effective anymore, and three..." Charles looked uneasily at Erik and glanced down at the helmet he'd carried in.

Erik stepped forward and handed it to Hank. "Three," he said, "this helmet blocks all the power-neutralizing effects of the zombies, as well as all telepathy, no matter how powerful. We need to know how, and we need to know if we can replicate it."

Hank nodded, looking down at the helmet in his hands. "Okay," he said. "I've got this. Darwin, if you could catch Charles up on everything we've figured out about the virus..."

"Absolutely."

Before Charles could dig in with both hands, Erik caught him by the arm. "I'm out of my depth here. If there's any way I can be of use, I'll stay, but otherwise--"

"Get some rest, as much as you can. You've earned it."

And apparently he'd meant it when he'd said _let them stare_ , because he dragged Erik down into a kiss, here in front of Hank and Darwin and Raven. When he pulled back, there _were_ stares-- though Hank quickly looked away, and Darwin exchanged a look with Raven that Erik could only characterize as 'knowing'-- but if Charles gave a damn, there was no sign of it.

"I'll probably be up all night working," Charles admitted. "I've been useless all this time; I'm ready to make up for it."

"You have _not_ been useless," Erik growled. "But do what you have to do."

Charles nodded, and Raven slipped an arm around Erik's waist, guiding him out of the lab. He glanced down at her with one eyebrow raised, but there was something good enough about being touched right now, about being _home_ \-- and when had this turned into home? he'd only just arrived-- that he didn't protest.


	19. Chapter 19

Erik had wondered how long the resources in Westchester would hold out. Water. Power. Food. As it turned out, they had enough food for six months-- more if they rationed it. Hank had invented a sustainable water reclamation device and set up water collectors in hopes of rainfall. And best of all, the power would be no trouble for the foreseeable future, so long as they kept Alex fed and healthy.

"I thought Hank was crazy, but he came through," Alex said, over breakfast; he was wearing a chestpiece with a huge dish in the front, and he jerked a thumb toward the back of the property, in the general direction of the lab. "I shoot out my energy bolts through this, they go into a dish thing Hank set up, and we've got enough power for twelve hours. I do it twice a day, like clockwork. The rest of the time I'm on perimeter defense, like everybody except Hank and Darwin."

Erik did a circuit around the grounds. On the roof, Angel was watching everything; Alex and Taine were patrolling now, front and back, guided by Angel. It was a bit strange to see their benefactor in a tactical vest, carrying a weapon, but according to Raven he'd been game for it. "He said, 'I owe you guys my life. I still know how to fire a rifle. Let me help.'" She shrugged. "We can't afford to turn anything down."

"Do we have the power to run an electrified fence around the property?" Erik asked Hank, when he caught up with the men in the lab that evening. On the laboratory table next to Hank, the helmet lay in pieces. Layers, really. The dark grey shell had been separated from the interior layer of the helmet, and Hank was carefully examining the inner layer. The curved silver faceplate was another piece entirely.

"The power? Yes. The wire? No."

"I can go out for it."

"Absolutely not," Charles snapped. He looked up from his microscope, slightly abashed. The circles under his eyes were dark; he stifled a yawn behind his hand. "No one's going out alone. Certainly not at night."

"I didn't say I'd go alone, and I didn't say now."

"We're on the verge of a breakthrough with this," Hank said, gesturing down at the helmet. "I've got the zombie-repelling components isolated from the telepathy-blocking components."

"It's all wiring?" Erik couldn't help asking, fascinated. He peered down; now that the helmet was open, he could feel all the conduits, the various layers of copper and silver on the plating, but he'd never imagined that passive wiring could create something like that.

"It's wiring and materials, but it looks like the unusual materials here are all about the telepathy-blocking. I _think_ I'm going to be able to replicate this."

"Fantastic. How long?"

"Another few days."

Erik glanced over at Charles. "Do you think we have it?"

" _We_ have it. What worries me is whether the _zombies_ have it-- or I should say, whether there's still enough time to reverse the damage. I'm really starting to wish I'd gotten a blood sample from Callow, back in Roswell. It might be different for mutants than it is for humans."

"I expect it would have to be, given the differences between mutant zombies and human zombies." Erik walked over to Charles; Charles leaned back against him, letting Erik settle his hands on his shoulders. "You're going to need to rest sometime."

"Now would be good," Darwin interjected. "We've got more tests to run, I've got it for the next few hours."

"The fact that your mutation means you don't have to sleep is possibly the aspect of it I envy most right now," Charles said. But he let Erik pull him off his lab stool and leaned even more heavily against him once he was standing.

"It'll catch up to me in the long run," Darwin admitted. "I've done this before. When I crash, I'll need a day or two in bed. But until then... I'm not going to stop until we find a cure for this thing."

"Thank you," Charles murmured, and he let Erik guide him back to the room-- _their_ room, for all they hadn't shared it properly yet.

Now wasn't the time, either, though Charles hummed with appreciation as Erik helped him out of his clothes and into bed. "Tell me the truth," Erik urged him. "Are we really making progress?"

"Absolutely," Charles murmured. "Every hour there's another piece of information we didn't have before. But we do need more blood samples. And Darwin's right. He's probably going to have to be the one that gets them."

"But not alone."

"Not alone," Charles agreed. He pulled Erik down into bed. "Are you done for the day? Can you stay with me?"

"Yes." Erik stood up again and started slipping out of his clothes. "I want that fence, Charles. I want scrap metal to make traps with. If we're going to stay here, I want us as safe as possible."

Charles clutched at him as soon as he was back under the covers. "And you propose to do that by exposing yourself to danger."

"How else?"

Frustrated, Charles shook his head, resting his forehead against Erik's chest. "There's no other way. I know," he whispered. "But be careful. And don't go alone."


	20. Chapter 20

As it turned out, they were able to combine the trip out for supplies with Darwin's trip out for more blood samples. And they didn't have to go powerless. Hank had one sample device ready: a metal collar that, according to him, had the same neutralizing effect as the helmet.

"We're taking the helmet as a backup all the same," Erik said.

"Agreed," Hank nodded. "There are two of you. If you get into trouble, if Darwin's not immune like we think he is--"

Erik nodded as he fastened the collar on. It snapped shut with a solid _click_ , and Erik glanced around the room, feeling out for all the metal. Everything felt exactly the same as before. He lifted a testing hand toward a lab table, and it rose a foot off the ground, perfectly level, not losing a single paper. As he set the table back down, he nodded.

"We'll try it." He turned to Charles. "What's it like for you?"

Charles looked at Erik closely and finally nodded. "Perfect. I can still feel you." Charles came over and touched the metal on Erik's throat. "If it works for all of us, we'll be in much better condition."

"We need every advantage we can get. Once we have the blood samples..."

"Then-- if all goes well-- we'll have our first step toward a cure."

Erik nodded. Darwin was ready; he had a satchel over his shoulder containing the hypodermics he'd need in order to take blood samples. Erik handed him the helmet, and Charles stopped Erik at the door, catching his hand.

"Come back safe," he whispered. "We need you. _I_ need you."

"We'll be back as soon as we can," Erik promised. He bent down and kissed Charles, soft and careful. Charles reached up to his neck, touching his collar again as if he could _wish_ it into working perfectly. Erik gave Charles's shoulder a quick squeeze, and they were off.


	21. Chapter 21

Retrieving wire and scrap metal was a job for the truck the others had taken from the Virginia compound. Darwin offered to drive, and Erik nodded. "Do you have the maps memorized?"

"Every one of them," Darwin confirmed. "If we get cut off somewhere or if there's damage, I'll be able to re-route us." He put them on their way, and all too soon they were both focused entirely on the road, vigilant as they watched for any sign of zombies. Charles and Erik had long since debriefed the others about the mutant zombies, and Erik was peering around, ready to react at the first instance of that inhuman rush of movement.

Still, there was nothing, and Erik's power felt as strong and complete as it ever had. He was beginning to believe this could be easy, which was a sure sign he needed to be on guard more than ever.

"What I'd give to be able to sense them the way Charles could," Erik said, shaking his head.

"Hank was talking about a zombie detector," Darwin told him. "But we've had other things to work on. Here we go." He nodded at the hardware store in front of them, and Erik took a deep breath, reaching out for all the metal he could. There was a great deal of it; if they had more time, Erik had little doubt he could scavenge enough raw material here to protect the mansion for as long as they needed.

But around the edges of the parking lot, there _was_ movement. None of it was fast, and that was a relief, but Erik set his jaw. "We're not going to have long."

"Supplies first. In and out, as fast as we can."

"Agreed."

They got out of the car together; Darwin left the key in the ignition, keeping it running. Erik pushed the doors open with his ability and headed directly for the things he'd need: reinforced chain-link fencing, sheet metal, wire. Between the two of them and Erik's ability, getting everything to the car wasn't difficult, and as an afterthought, Erik picked up a ten-pound bucket of nails, prying the lid off and floating it out of the store with them.

"Hell," Darwin breathed, as they reached the door. "Erik? I think we're gonna need those nails."

Erik looked past him to the door. The zombies weren't completely covering it yet, but there were a dozen of them between them and the door.

But the collar was working. Erik could feel his power as fully as ever. He nodded to Darwin.

"This could get messy. I suggest you step back."

Darwin held up both hands and stepped out of the way, and Erik sent the doors themselves flying, smashing the zombies and pressing them away at the same time. It cleared the first part of the path, and Darwin pushed into that space, armoring up as he tackled a zombie and bashed it into another, the three of them going down in a pile. His elbow came down, and he managed to break both zombies' heads apart with it, in one blow.

Erik turned his attention to the rest. The ones he'd gotten with the door weren't getting up, but the others were still coming. He shot a dozen nails at each of them, and the metal embedded in them meant he could move _them_ , bodily, floating them back and back and _back_ , as far as his power would send them.

Now there really _was_ a path to the truck, and he floated the supplies into the back, leaping for the driver's seat. Darwin had grabbed his cache of hypodermics out of his satchel, and he was taking blood, carefully, from one inert zombie at a time.

From the corner of his eye, Erik saw something, and he had enough time to shout a wordless warning to Darwin before it was on him. Darwin turned, braced himself, but the mutant zombie tackled him to the ground anyway, clawing at him, teeth bared and bloody.

Erik was out of the truck again in an instant, a coil of the wire he'd taken from the store up and reaching out to snare the mutant, pull it off Darwin. He hesitated for a split-second and then yanked at the wire, all at once, feeling it slice through muscle and bone and gristle, the zombie exploding into a rain of putrid blood and rotting flesh.

Darwin was still on the ground, still in shock, and Erik came out of the truck toward him. Darwin held up a hand, shaking his head. "Don't," he groaned, and Erik saw it, then-- the torn skin just below Darwin's jaw, the bite marks. His blood chilled, and as Darwin kept waving him away, Erik stepped back.

The satchel with hypodermics was still nearby; Darwin groaned as he rolled over and crawled to it, hands shaking as he lifted out a fresh hypodermic. Erik winced, but Darwin managed to stab himself directly in the wound, the blood sample coming out darker than any normal blood Erik had ever seen, disturbing and ominous.

He dropped the syringe to his side, and collapsed on his back, his body convulsing. Scales erupted across his body, his mutation desperately trying to protect him, and he rolled onto his side, retching, vomiting until there was nothing but bile, and from there, until there was nothing but blood. He crawled onto his hands and knees, and screamed as the scales on his body built up, covered everything.

And then, suddenly, it was over, Darwin collapsing, the blue scales slowly ebbing away, his dark brown skin seeming to have an almost greyish cast to it. But even from here, Erik could tell Darwin was breathing, and he ran to Darwin's side, looking at him carefully before reaching out.

The bite marks were gone. The gashes were gone. He was safe, _healed_.

And he'd gotten a sample of his blood, just as his mutation set to work.

He was out cold, though, and Erik lifted him up in his arms, carrying him back to the truck. There was no time to waste, even now; he slammed the truck door shut and stretched an arm out to call the hypodermics back to him. He realized, a moment later, that there was one more sample he needed-- but the hypodermics were mostly steel, and he could do it from here. He sent one flying to the horrifying remains of the mutant zombie, and took a sample-- hoping it was from the right part of the zombie, as it was hard to tell what was what, after the way he'd dispatched it. Without touching any of the hypodermics, he set them in Darwin's satchel, and he pulled the truck out of the parking lot with a roar from the engine and a squeal from the tires, taking them back to the mansion as quickly as he could.


	22. Chapter 22

"Darwin's going to be okay," Hank said, slipping his glasses off and cleaning the lenses with the tail of his shirt. "He might need to sleep for a while, but he's going to be okay."

"Thank God." Charles rubbed a hand over his face. "We're not doing this again."

"With luck, we won't have to," Erik pointed out. "We came back with everything we'll need for an electrified barrier, and we know now that the collars work. If you can make more of them--"

"I'll do my best, but right now the priority has to be the cure," Hank said. He'd gotten the blood samples into vials, and set them into a laboratory refrigerator. The first round of tests had already begun. "The one Darwin took from himself, just as his mutation started to take hold-- that one's going to be the key. I know it."

Charles patted Hank on the back, reaching up to squeeze his shoulder. "We'll find it," he said. "But you need rest, first."

"I'll rest when the first tests are complete. I need to see the results." He shook his head. "I need to know if we're on the right track."

"I know, Hank. But we all do better work when we're fresh."

There was a knock at the door; Alex stood there, lower lip between his teeth, eyebrows raised. "Raven said Darwin was here," he said. "Can I see him?"

Charles nodded, gesturing over to the bed they'd set up for him. Alex commandeered a lab chair and set himself up at Darwin's side, reaching over to take Darwin's hand in his. Erik lifted an eyebrow and looked at Charles, who was blinking at the two of them, apparently no more certain what was going on than Charles was.

"Hey," Alex said quietly. "I hear you almost screwed up, big-time. When you wake up, I'm gonna kick your ass, okay? That's a promise."

"I think," Charles said, one hand on Erik's waist, one on Hank's shoulder, "that some privacy might be called for here."

Hank quickly got his tests into order, and they slipped out the door, leaving Alex holding Darwin's hand and murmuring softly to him.


	23. Chapter 23

"Angel to Erik. You've got a big blank spot between three o'clock and four o'clock, do you see what I'm talking about?"

Erik jogged back to that part of the perimeter and felt around for the wires and traps he'd laid. As Angel had said, there was a spot large enough for zombies to fit through. Erik drew more supplies from his backpack and added more wire, more caltrops. He lifted the walkie-talkie. "Erik here. Better?"

"Looks great, daddy-o."

"Thank you."

"I hear there are a half-dozen Cokes stashed somewhere in the bunker. If you really want to thank me, how about bringing up one of those? Over and out."

A few minutes later, Angel's eyes widened when Erik stepped onto the roof with a soda bottle in his hand. "I was kidding," she said, quickly taking it anyway. "Mostly. Thanks."

"You're welcome. How has it been, up here?"

"Fine." She grimaced. "A little worrying, if you want the truth. If they swarm me up here, I'm screwed. Until we get more of those--" she nodded at his collar, which he hadn't been inclined to take off; it was small enough, comfortable enough-- "if they hit the roof, I can't fly off. So I'm hoping we get some more collars made soon."

"Hank's working on it," Erik assured her. "Until then..."

"Until then, we wait." Angel glanced down at the bottle and tipped it toward Erik, cap first. "I'm betting you can take care of that."

Erik smiled and pried the top off with his ability, pulling the bottlecap toward him and pocketing it. Angel tipped the Coca-Cola back and sighed softly. "So much stuff like that. Little stuff we used to take for granted. It's going to be a big deal now."

Nodding, Erik glanced around. From here, it almost seemed as though nothing had changed-- except that he knew that the night would bring darkness with it, the sort of absolute darkness none of them had seen since the war. This wasn't the world they'd known, none of them. "Even if their cure works-- even if it might work on every infected mutant and human left-- the world won't be back to normal anytime soon."

"I have to believe we'll get there. I _have_ to, or I'll go crazy." Angel shivered, her wings fluttering out behind her. "But even so... I wanted to talk to you, actually. You or Charles, but you're here, so congratulations, you win."

Erik raised an eyebrow. "What do I win?"

Angel rubbed her hands together and took a breath. "I wasn't so sure about you two when you first came to get me. A bunch of freaks together, okay, I could get behind that, but then you drop us in Virginia and we've got those jerks making jokes about us all day long?"

Erik's expression darkened. "The agents in Virginia?"

"Yeah. How much of it did you hear, how much did you know about? Taine knew, they were his guys. I think he knew that some people kind of considered him a laughingstock, but I don't know if he knew how far it went. Moira... Moira had to know. I'm sure she put up with stuff, too, even if she isn't a mutant. Being a woman was probably enough." She shook her head. "And Charles knew. Charles _had_ to know what all those people thought of us." She narrowed her eyes. "How could he not?"

"I hadn't heard," Erik was forced to admit. "No one said much of anything, really, around me."

"Hank and I had the worst of it. Because they knew about Hank's feet, and they knew about my wings. I guess they got what was coming to them, though." She shook her head, though, as if already regretting it. "Maybe nobody had it coming. Nobody deserved this."

A face that had been part of Erik's memory since childhood, tearing away in bites of flesh; a skull, cracked and open, the grey matter within disappearing into hungry mouths. Erik tightened both hands into fists, the bottlecap in his pocket twisting. "No?"

There was a haunted expression on Angel's face, too, something that spoke to much more than bullying remarks from human agents. "I want to say no," Angel said quietly. "I want to be the kind of person who'd say no."

They were quiet together for a while, long enough that Erik looked away, out into the treeline, out to the satellite dish behind the grounds. _So do I,_ he thought, but if he were going to say it aloud, he couldn't say it here. Not here, and not now.

"I guess what I'm getting at is... I think I understand, now. What it would mean to be part of a team. To have something to fight for." She looked at him pensively. "When this is over... I'm staying. This is family now. A brotherhood. This is what I want to fight for."

 _That_ , Erik could nod to, agree to. He reached out a hand to her, and she took it.


	24. Chapter 24

Hours after everyone but the night watch had gone to sleep, Erik was in bed, alone. Still awake.

He headed down to the lab; Charles was staring into a microscope, easing back, and making notes, over and over. When Erik put a hand between his shoulderblades, Charles exhaled and leaned back against him.

"I would have told you I was going to be late, but..."

"I could have guessed," Erik pointed out. "You need your rest, too."

"We're so close," Charles said, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. "Darwin's blood sample-- and the one we got from him after-- is nearly everything we need. There's something missing, though, and until we find that missing piece--"

"We're still not there."

"No."

Erik set both hands on Charles's shoulders and dug into the tight muscle there, rubbing. He'd worked out enough of his own aches in the last year; he could help with Charles's body, if nothing else.

"Come to bed."

"Let me finish this last round of observations, and I'll come."

"I'm staying here until you do."

Charles sighed. "All right. I suppose that'll keep me honest."

"Someone has to."

Smiling into the microscope now, Charles said, "Usually that's been Raven's job. I'm sure she won't mind backup."

"These days, I'm sure none of us would." Erik wandered around the lab while Charles finished up, but as he rounded a corner and got to Hank's table, he paused. Shaw's helmet had been put back together, the grey helmet that had kept Erik and Charles safe for half their trip here. He stretched out a hand, stroking down the side of it. Not Shaw's anymore. _His._ For all he'd given it up easily, it felt wrong to leave it here, in the lab, out of his sight.

He barely noticed when Charles came up behind him, wrapped his arm around Erik's waist. "Erik?"

"I was thinking about..." He stopped; he didn't need to tell Charles who he was thinking about. Even without deliberately trying to read Erik's mind, Charles knew. "I was wondering," he said instead, softly, "how it's taken me until now to think about the fact that I wore this for the better part of two days. Put myself in Shaw's place, if only in that small way."

"You didn't," Charles said. He held onto Erik, pulled him close against his side. "Shaw built that helmet as a way to threaten people. Keep himself safe, while others around him suffered. You put it on for protection. Would we ever have made it home without it?"

"Different means," Erik murmured. "I can still see his face in it. And mine."

"You gave it up when the opportunity presented itself." Charles reached up, touched the silver collar on Erik's neck. "For which I'm grateful."

"It blocks peripheral vision. It's practical as much as anything."

"Then that practicality marks a difference between you. One worth noting." Charles slipped the helmet gently away from Erik's touch and set it aside. He pressed his cheek against Erik's shoulder. "He's gone now. Gone forever."

Erik nodded, but his shoulders were rigid, his eyes still fixed on the helmet. "I don't know if that's enough. The world falling down around us, Charles-- I don't know if that's enough, either."

Charles was silent, still curved to Erik's body. Erik drew away from him.

"It means something to have him dead. And I'm grateful it wasn't an easy death." He looked at Charles then; Charles was almost holding his breath, as if knowing Erik wasn't finished. "But it wasn't _me_."

"You'll find peace with that, someday." Charles took Erik's hand, held it. "I'll help you."

"Peace was never an option."

"Then you'll find something else. And you'll heal."

Erik looked down at their hands, the way their fingers were laced together. "Come to bed."

"Yes."

Upstairs, Erik closed the door, shut the bolt with his power as he dragged Charles across the room. Charles followed, his hands busy on Erik's shirt, on his belt, the fly of his trousers. He gave Erik a gentle push when they reached the bed, and Erik climbed back on it, letting Charles strip the rest of his clothes off him, watching as Charles left his own clothes at the side of the bed.

Charles climbed on top of him, hungry, almost desperate. Erik wrapped his arms around Charles's waist, rocked up against him, and Charles squirmed down on Erik's body, rubbing hard against Erik's cock.

"We're home now," Charles whispered. "Can we find something to use for...?" He squirmed again, and this time his meaning was clear; Erik had to grab hold of him and keep him still, his mouth pressed to Charles's collarbone in order to stay quiet.

"I take it you want to, then," Charles teased. "Your men for hire, what did they...?"

"Whatever was available," Erik admitted. "Hand cream...?"

"Stay here, then." Charles kissed Erik's forehead and eased him down on his back. "Stay right here."

"Where would I go?" Erik asked. He stretched out a bit more comfortably on the bed, though, while Charles left for the bathroom, coming back with a hand towel and a small jar.

"I'm aware of the _principle_ behind this, but..." Charles climbed up again, straddling Erik's thighs. He glanced down at Erik's cock and took it in his hand, stroking it firmly. "The reality's going to be more of a challenge than I expected."

Erik reached up and stroked his fingertips down the inside of Charles's wrist. "You don't strike me as a man who'd back down from a challenge."

"Not _this_ challenge," Charles reassured him, laughing softly. "I used to wonder if we'd ever get to this point. Sometimes I thought I ought to practice. Be ready, if it ever happened. But since you were _there_ , most of the time... it seemed as though I could only spend so much discreet time 'washing up', without having you wonder what on earth I was up to."

The idea caught Erik, full-force, and he could only imagine what he would have thought-- what he would have _done_ , if he'd known Charles was in the bathroom, stroking his fingers into his own arse, opening himself for Erik's cock... if not that night, then sometime down the road. Erik took a weak, shaky breath and licked his lips, looking up at Charles.

"I can feel that, you know," Charles murmured. He grinned, took up the jar of hand cream, and twisted the lid off. "Let's see if this works out for us."

Watching Charles lift himself up on his knees, looking at Charles's slim hips and freckled chest as he reached behind himself... Erik had to put a hand on his cock, squeeze tightly at the base. "You're _beautiful_ ," Erik murmured, his voice barely a growl. "I want you."

" _I'm_ beautiful," Charles laughed. "Look at you, I'm _dying_ to have you inside me--" He winced for just a moment, but then blew out a breath-- and pushed two fingers inside himself. Erik reached up, stroking up and down Charles's chest as Charles touched himself, touched himself _inside_. The look on Charles's face went from a mild wince to a surprised, pleased look, his lips shaping an "O" as he found a slow, steady rhythm-- one he obviously liked. His hips worked back against his hand as he pressed in again, and again, finally letting out a soft moan.

"Could I...?" Erik reached for the jar, dipped a finger into the smooth, cool cream. "I'd like to help."

" _Help_ ," Charles repeated, breathless. He grinned down at Erik. "Your reasons aren't just a tad more selfish than that...?"

"Maybe a bit." Erik moved his hand between Charles's legs. "May I?"

"Yes," Charles whispered, slipping his own fingers out of himself, letting Erik in.

He was slick enough to make this easy, but the extra cream Erik had added was only going to make things better. Erik pressed one finger all the way inside Charles, watching as Charles's eyelashes fluttered and his cock jerked, his whole body seeming attuned to Erik's touch. He rocked down against Erik's hand, gasping with pleasure, grinning down at him.

"I think I may have a natural talent for this," Charles teased, voice low and rich. Erik took a deep breath and drew his finger back, raising his eyebrows as he pressed two against Charles's opening. "Go on. I took two of mine, I can take two of yours." He flicked his gaze down Erik's body, lingering on his cock, and licked his lips. "And more, I hope."

"We don't have to rush," Erik said, but he was helpless against that look, the swipe of Charles's tongue across his lower lip. He pushed two fingers inside Charles, and Charles groaned, lifting up and down on them, fucking himself on Erik's fingers as Erik watched in awe and pleasure.

"To hell with not rushing," Charles said, his voice thick, and he grabbed for the jar, scooping up more cream and reaching behind himself again. Erik started to draw his hand away, but Charles shook his head, and he bit down on his lip as he tried to push one of his own fingers inside-- alongside both of Erik's. "I want all of it, yours and mine, come on, help me..."

Erik gasped softly and drew his fingers back, and then he caught Charles's hand in his, their fingers woven together. _Help me_ , Charles had said, and Erik did, moving all three fingers into Charles's body. Charles moaned, a little helpless, but his cock was hard, his glans just peeking past the foreskin, a smear of pre-come making him look good enough to taste. Erik's mouth watered at the sight of him, and Charles whimpered as he tried to bury his finger and Erik's deeper inside him.

"More," Charles panted, another of his fingers nudging at his entrance. Erik helped him back out, and then there were four fingers, _four_ , gently pressing their way into Charles's body. "God. God, it's so _much_ \--"

"We're not hurting you?"

"No," Charles panted. "No, it's good, I _like_ it, I--" he laughed. "I knew... it was good, but... oh, God, I need more, Erik, I need _more_ , I need it so badly--"

Erik glanced down, took in the sight of his cock, hard and curved up against his stomach. "More?" he asked softly.

Charles looked down immediately and grinned, ear-to-ear. " _More_."

"Don't let me keep you..."

"Weren't you saying a moment ago that we didn't need to rush?" Charles rocked their fingers into him again, moaning at even the slightest movement. "I can feel you, you know... how much you want me... what this _does_ for you... it's incredible, I want you to have this, I want you to have _me_..."

"I want to have you, too," Erik groaned. "When you're ready..."

"I'm ready now." But Charles twisted his wrist, pressing their fingers deeper into him. "But I like the way this feels..."

"God." Erik laughed. "You're teasing me."

"You look like a man who _needs_ a good heavy tease now and then," Charles said, grinning. But he was moving their fingers out of him, too, gasping when they were all the way out. "All those men I read, all the ones who'd had this or wanted it... I knew how good it could be..." Charles grabbed for the hand towel, cleaned off his fingers as best he could. "I didn't know I'd want it _this_ much, when the time came. But now I think I'll die if I can't have you, so do please hurry." Charles flashed him a smile.

Erik took up a bit more cream and stroked it onto his cock. "Hurry?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "I really think we ought to take our time with this, Charles. Seeing as how it's your first--" His throat went a little dry, as he realized what he was saying. "Your first time doing this..."

"My first time," Charles confirmed, crawling forward a little, leaning down and resting his hands on Erik's chest. "I'm ready, though. I am."

"Then take it," Erik murmured, one hand on his cock to steady it, one hand on Charles's hip to ease him down. Charles groaned at first, his eyes squeezing shut, but he opened his mouth and panted through the first aching stretch of it. Erik was nearly lost to the pleasure himself, gasping as Charles sank down further, and further, until he had the head of Erik's cock inside him-- but it was more than just his pleasure, it was a deep, aching weight, it was delight and satisfaction... it was _Charles_ , radiating out his feelings as he shifted on Erik's cock, and held his breath, and sank down for more.

"Yes," Charles whispered, pushing back harder, taking Erik deeper. "God. _Yes_ , you're... there's so _much_ of you, you feel so _good_ \--"

"Slowly," Erik breathed. "Easy. We have time..."

"For once," Charles growled, but it didn't slow him down any. He pushed down, his body _demanding_ Erik's cock, slipping further and further until he had to stop, and breathe deeply, and start moving back up.

Erik thought his eyes might roll back in his head; he was squeezing the base of his cock tightly, every ounce of discipline and mental strength focused on not coming, _not_ , not yet, not until Charles had all of him, not until Charles was crying for release, too. He breathed in, and out, and waited for Charles to sink down again.

And Charles did. His fingernails dug into Erik's chest, and he pushed down again, filling himself-- and Erik felt that, too, the bliss from it, the heat, a stretch that was both unbearable and unbearably _good_ , all at once. He'd felt it from so many people, he'd _wanted_ it for so long, but having it himself was beyond all of those things, enough to shock Charles out of those memories and simply feed back the pleasure to Erik, take in Erik's pleasure for himself, an endless loop of sharing that left Erik winded, dizzy.

When Charles's arse pressed hard against Erik's thighs, when they were fully, completely joined, Erik arched up underneath Charles and held onto Charles's hips with both hands, holding him down, feeling surrounded and _held_ there, deep in Charles's body. "God," Erik stuttered out, arching up again-- he couldn't help himself. " _God_ , Charles."

"Erik," Charles whispered, reaching up to touch Erik's face. "You're so--" The whisper of a thought floated across Erik's mind, gone as quickly as it came, as though snatched back at the last moment. «You're so good, so beautiful, yes...»

Erik licked his lips. "Do what pleases you," he managed, hoarse, his chest aching with the heavy beat of his heart. "Do _everything_. I'm here."

"Believe me," Charles groaned softly, "I know _precisely_ where you are."

Erik laughed, but the laugh strangled in his throat when Charles began to move. Slowly at first, hesitant, but gradually picking up more speed as he picked up confidence. Pleasure fed into pleasure, Erik's gasps and moans sparking Charles's own, and when Charles reached down and wrapped his hand around his cock, Erik nearly stopped breathing.

He wanted to watch _everything_ : Charles's hand moving; Charles's hips and thighs flexing as he lifted himself up and sank back down; Charles's mouth, so red, his lips parted as he let out one breathless gasp after another. Charles's hand moved faster and faster, his arse coming down harder and harder on Erik's cock-- he had to be close, he _had_ to be, he was nearly there, _Erik_ was nearly there, they were hurtling toward the edge _together_ \--

«Now,» the word ringing through Erik's mind, and suddenly there was no more waiting, no amount of discipline that could have held him back from it. He grasped Charles's hips in both hands and held him, thrusting up hard inside him, and came, his vision whiting out as the pleasure rocked him and left him dizzy, lightheaded. He felt Charles's body, tightening around him, and Charles's come, streaking across his stomach and chest. Charles's mind was singing through his, thoughts swirled into his own, until Erik could barely tell where one thought ended and the next one began.

«I love you,» he heard, or thought, and then, «I love you, too.» Somewhere in there, «Stay with me,» and an answering promise: «I'm here, I won't go, I won't leave you, I love you.»

It could have been him, thinking all of it; it could have been Charles, too, and the knowledge and certainty of that made Erik surge up, wrap his arms around Charles and pull him down on top of him. Charles gasped as their connection was lost, but a moment's squirming had him quickly settling down, his forehead tucked against Erik's cheek, his breath soft against Erik's chest.

«I love you,» Charles thought, dreamy now. «That was better than anything has any right to be...»

And Erik stilled, his whole body stiffening. "Charles," he whispered. "Charles. Your power..."

For a moment, Charles's confusion was all Erik could feel-- and then Charles was shoving back from Erik, eyes wide, looking around the room. "I didn't mean-- oh, God-- God, no, please, I don't feel anything, they're not coming, they _won't come_ , they can't get to us here--"

Erik grabbed him by the shoulders, held him steady. "It might not have been that," he said, loud enough to break through Charles's panic. "Or maybe we're far enough away they won't have heard you. We don't _know_ , Charles, we were only theorizing--"

"How could I have been so _fucking careless_ , why didn't you _stop_ me, oh God, what did I _do_ \--"

"We _don't know_ ," Erik insisted. "We don't know. Are you _hearing_ me? We don't know. And if it's possible that it wasn't you, wasn't _ever_ you, then we need to know that. We _have_ to know. We were going to need you to test your ability either way, Charles, it's too bloody valuable in a fight not to use." Charles took a deep breath, nodding, his hands tight on Erik's shoulders now, digging in. "We aren't surrounded now. We aren't fighting. We have resources, we have _allies_ , and we're _this close_ to finding a cure."

"The helmet," Charles whispered, hands shaking. "I could--" He couldn't even bring himself to say it. His eyes were wide with fright, his body trembling under Erik's hands. "I could--"

"Not yet," Erik said steadily. Charles gulped in a breath and nodded. "Not yet. But we need to tell the others. We need to talk to Hank." Erik reached up and stroked Charles's cheek. "We need to be ready, Charles. But we're together. It's going to be all right."

"I can't believe I--" Charles bit his lip and closed his eyes. "I _knew_ , I've been _forcing_ myself not to use my power all this time, but I couldn't--"

"What were you going to do? Stay silent for the rest of your life?" Erik shook his head. "It's done now, and we'll deal with whatever happens." He leaned in, kissed Charles's forehead. "And I _love you_."

"I love you, too," Charles whispered, launching himself into Erik's arms. Erik held onto him, rocked him as Charles buried his face against his shoulder. "God." He almost managed a laugh. "I managed to wreck our first time, I'm so sorry..."

Erik actually shivered, his whole body caught up in remembering Charles on top of him, Charles moving with Erik's cock inside him. He shook his head. "Nothing was wrecked," he murmured. "But when you'd like to try again..."

This time Charles's laugh was much closer to the real thing. "A day or two," he murmured, teasing, "but yes, Erik." He kissed Erik's shoulder. "Yes."


	25. Chapter 25

Erik handled the conversation, telling people that Charles's telepathy had come up unexpectedly, leaving out the context. Everyone took it well, although Raven rolled her eyes at him, and Alex-- the smirk he gave Erik made Erik wonder exactly what was being said about him and Charles, behind closed doors.

Still, Hank was almost excited at the news. "I honestly didn't see how Charles's telepathy could cause the zombies to lock on to him. As far as we can tell, their ability isn't psionic at all."

"No? Despite the interference with our abilities?"

"Think about it. They interfere with _all_ our abilities. Angel's wings faded out, Sean lost his voice, Raven couldn't shapeshift. My feet..." He glanced down at his feet, wincing. "Having them going from human to mutant and back was-- terrible. I'm healing, but... part of me wishes..."

Erik frowned. "I can imagine what you wish."

Hank looked down at his soldering iron, the collars he had in progress on the table. "I know that's bothered you. That I can't be proud of what my mutation makes me look like. But maybe I'll come to that in time. Priorities. Right now my priority is _this_." He gestured at the lab as a whole, his arm sweeping across everything in a broad gesture-- and if anything held pride for Hank, this lab was it. "Anyway. Your ability and Charles's, they're both at least somewhat psionic in nature, but the rest of us all have _physical_ abilities. The zombies interfere with those, too. So it can't just be a psionic effect. There has to be more to it."

Erik nodded. "I suppose that makes sense," he admitted.

"And the best part of this is: If it's _not_ Charles's telepathy, if that _isn't_ what's drawing the zombies, we might actually have a way to contact any survivors, figure out where they are... maybe bring them in."

Erik frowned. "How...?"

"Cerebro."

"You left Cerebro in Virginia."

"But you brought the little one back." Hank shook his head. "I had no idea how important that little thing was going to be, but it might be the key to saving humanity. And mutants," he added quickly. "With enough time, I can get a full-scale Cerebro working again, but let's face it: every second counts. I say we give it twenty-four hours, and if we haven't seen any evidence of an oncoming invasion, we get the smaller version of Cerebro up and running."

"Charles may not be keen on that." Erik's expression was dark. "He had difficulty using it with so many zombie minds around..."

"If I can get more collars made, that might help a great deal with the mental interference," Hank said. "It's just been a matter of deciding what needs doing _now_ , what can wait..."

"The cure first," Erik agreed. "And if you get another collar made, the next one should go to Angel. She's our reconnaissance. She can fly out, find out how bad things are, but still be safe in the sky."

Hank nodded. "Okay," he said. "And I hate to kick you out, but--"

"But you need to get to work. We all do." Erik took a breath. "Thank you."


	26. Chapter 26

They doubled the patrols around the mansion, but hour after hour passed with no incidents, no increased presence of zombies.

For help with recon, Hank offered Angel a parachute that packed up small enough to wear between her wings. "I'm still working on your collar, I'm sorry," he'd said, "but at least this way maybe you can afford to fly out a little bit." She'd looked like she wanted to hug him, and she'd been up in the air for short little stretches, every hour, since.

"I've got nothing," she said, over the walkie-talkie. The broadcast was a little faint; Erik tuned his antenna more precisely to get a better signal. "As far as the eye can see, me plus my binoculars... nothing, nothing, nothing. There's nobody. We're clear, guys."

Charles's voice was next on the walkie-talkie, clearer: Erik was on the side of the mansion closest to the lab. "Another eight hours before we can be certain of that, but if no one's seeing anything--"

"Wait," and that was Raven, at the east side of the grounds. "Wait, there's something-- I can feel something. My skin's crawling."

"How?" Hank came through, instantly concerned. "Are you talking about a bad feeling or--"

"If I were talking about a bad feeling, I'd _say_ I had a bad feeling about this," Raven snapped. "No, it's the feeling like when we were on the road."

"All right." Hank was calm now. Too calm, artificially calm. Erik started running east. "How many do you think it is?"

"I don't know." There was a burst of static, and Raven came back on again. "One. I think it's only one. It might be two."

"Raven--"

"I'm all right, Hank, we've got the fence, we-- oh my God."

Another burst of static, and Raven was gone completely. Erik picked up speed, feeling out along the fencing. It was undamaged for as far as he could feel, untouched.

Charles's voice came through the walkie-talkie. "Everyone, we've got a zombie at the east side of the grounds, with Raven, she needs backup _now_."

"I'm on my way there," Erik said. "I'm close."

"It's only one, but it's a mutant zombie. It jumped the fence."

 _Damn._ Erik had known, had _known_ he was taking a chance leaving it that low, but they'd had only so much fencing. They'd get more, they'd have to, but right now-- he tugged up a handful of caltrops along the way, carried them along with him like a swarm of angry metal insects.

He burst around the corner; Raven was in her natural form, facing the zombie, her gun far to one side. Her skin spiked as Erik watched, the same motion he was used to seeing as she changed form. Darwin's armored plating fitted itself onto her body, but she couldn't hold it there; the plates shifted, changed, vulnerable spots showing themselves from moment to moment.

Erik sent the caltrops forward with all his strength, but the zombie was moving, tackling Raven, rolling onto the ground with her. Raven screamed, rolling over and over, getting on top of the zombie and slamming her fist down into its head. It let out an inhuman sound of anger and pain, and bucked up against her, knocking her off it.

Erik was almost there, _nearly there_. He called the caltrops back and tried to aim them again, but they were moving, it was too fast, _too fast_ \--

The zombie latched on, suddenly, at Raven's arm, just where a plate had shifted out of place. Raven screamed again, but shot her other arm out, punching with all her strength. The zombie's body convulsed as her fist hit the zombie squarely in the throat, and again, and again, until the zombie's head was attached to its body with nothing but a thin strip of rotting skin. Raven jerked her arm back, zombie head still attached, and tore the zombie's head away from the body. A moment later, she reached for the jaw, gripping it in shaking fingers, and pulled it loose from her arm.

Erik skidded to a stop at her side, on his knees, reaching out while Raven's body shook. The spiking surge of transformation hit her, and she gasped, falling backward, her skin lightening, the pale pink shade she'd worn as camouflage all that time. Her eyes shifted from gold to blue, and her hair went from red to black-- not the blonde she'd chosen for herself when she was wearing her human form all the time, but something forced on her. Erik clenched his fists, angry past words, hating that new shape on sight.

But that was the least of his concern for her. Her mouth was foaming, her body wracked with agony. Erik reached out-- hesitating for a moment, the need to help struggling with the need to keep from sharing her contagion-- but Raven spit out a mouthful of foam and gasped, " _Get back_ ," and Erik obeyed. He moved just out of arm's reach and pulled the caltrops from the air, stretching the scrap metal into thin bands. She was convulsing again; he pushed the bands down over her wrists, her ankles, her upper arms and legs, kept her as still as he could while her head shook back and forth.

Across the grounds, he could see Hank and Charles running full-speed toward them. Raven was still in the throes of a seizure, but now her body was showing spikes again, her ability pushing blue into her skin. She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and strained with every muscle in her body-- and stayed pink.

"Your mutation," Erik said, looking down at her. "Raven, don't fight it-- your body wants to reshape itself, _let it_."

"No!" Raven's head twisted back and forth. "My blood, my _blood_ \--" She choked on her own saliva, spit it out over her chin. Foam coated the lower half of her face, her cheeks. "They need it. They need it _before I change_." Her body erupted into spikes again, and she screamed. " _Help me_."

"I don't know how, I can't--"

"I do," Charles panted, running up to them and collapsing at Raven's head. Completely fearless, he put his hands to her temples, and she stilled, the convulsions leaving her, her body still erupting with blue. "Calm your mind," he whispered. "Stay with me."

"Charles, _no_!" Erik shouted. "She has to change back _now_ , there's no time--"

"No time," Charles whispered, calm as the eye of a storm. "Yes. Hank. Get back to the lab. We need syringes. Hurry."

Hank took off as quickly as he'd come. Erik looked from Raven to Charles, hands curled into fists, wanting to pull Charles away from her, wanting to grab Raven by the arms and scream down at her to _change form_. "Charles, she's in pain, she's _infected_ \-- you can't let her--"

"It's her decision," Charles whispered, that calm still running through him. "Raven asked for this."

There was a sense of _connection_ , a muted terror and agony, but Erik could hear Raven's thoughts in his mind, Charles sharing them with him.

«Erik, listen... _listen_. We don't have a cure...»

"I know," Erik snapped, "it's why you have to change form, _now_ , try to let your mutation push the disease out of you--"

«No. No... we _don't have a cure_. If I can't save myself... then I'm dead already...»

"You can't do this to her," Erik growled, trying to reach Charles now. "You can't allow this to happen, you _can't_ \--"

«We need my blood,» Raven's voice whispered in his head.

"Your blood." Erik glared up at Charles. "Her blood will be _on your hands_ \--"

"This is her choice," Charles whispered, again. "Hers... Erik..."

«Erik... I need this to be worth it. _We all know I might not live._ But if I can save myself, we need to know why.»

Hank was on his way back, running as quickly as he could, faster and faster, a blur of motion, nearly there, _nearly there_. Erik crawled back, shaking. "It won't be long," he whispered.

Raven managed to nod. Her eyes opened, and she looked up at Charles. "Charles," she breathed. Her voice was ragged, pain clear in every sound. "If this is going to kill me... you can drop the hold. I don't want to die in this shape."

"It isn't going to kill you," Charles whispered. "Be still. Save your breath. You're going to need it. Changing back is going to hurt."

Raven let out a weak laugh. "More... than this...?"

Hank arrived at Raven's side again, a syringe already in hand. He took the sample from her arm, just where the zombie had bitten her, and he had another hypodermic ready as soon as he was done with the first. "If you two can hold her still enough for me to take samples while she's changing--"

Gruesome to think about, but Erik nodded. "If she's fighting hard enough it could break her arm," he warned Hank.

"She'll heal from that," Charles said firmly, the unnatural calm finally leaking out of his voice. "Everyone step back, I'm letting her go--"

They all stepped back from her, and the hold broke. Raven screamed as her skin spiked in all directions, blue breaking through the pink. When the spikes faded, her skin had changed into a sickly greyish-green, her eyes wide open in the unnatural blue hue of the zombies's eyes.

Her arms were struggling so hard against the restraints Erik could feel flesh and bone grinding against metal, but he held her arm still for Hank all the same. Hank jabbed a hypodermic into her wound again, and fell back as her skin spiked once more, blue overriding the greyish color. It should have been momentary, it should have been fast, but the spikes went on and on, grey fighting blue, blue struggling to win out. Raven managed to turn her head to the side, vomiting onto the grass, and Erik moved her restraints, shifted her, helped her to roll over on hands and knees instead of on her back. Her body shuddered, blue again, _blue_ , the spikes all blue now as she retched again and again.

 _Blue._ She'd stopped changing, and her skin was blue. Hank's hands shook as he took a third blood sample, and then Raven collapsed, pitching onto her side in the grass. Erik let her roll, watching as she spit to clear her mouth and then struggled for breath.

"Her arm?"

Hank took her hand in his, and Erik relinquished his hold on that arm's restraints. Hank looked carefully down her arm, even stroking his fingertips down her skin. "No trace," he said. "I don't know if she's cured, but there's no sign of the wound."

"Let's get her inside," Charles whispered. Hank glanced to Erik for a moment before slipping his arms underneath her body and lifting her, and the three of them made their way back to the lab.


	27. Chapter 27

It wasn't as quick a recovery as Darwin had made. Raven was asleep for the better part of two days, and when she came out of that, she was feverish, unable to hold food down. They found chicken broth in the supplies, and she was able to eat that; when she'd finally had a meal and gone back to sleep, Charles sagged with relief at her side.

Hank had spent those two days working on her blood samples, combining them with what he'd gotten from Darwin's. Darwin was well enough to be at his side in the lab, helping Hank with the tests and running tests of his own. The combination of Raven's samples and Darwin's was promising, but complicated. Darwin had come to see Raven, and even though she was asleep, he'd told her how things were going. "I think you saved us," he said softly, standing at her bedside. "You and me. We're going to get the rest of them through this. You were brave. You were so brave."

There were no more zombie attacks, but Erik doubled his patrol time, feeling out for every inch of the fencing as he made round after round. Charles called to him when his shift was supposed to be over.

«Are you coming in?»

The voice in his head made Erik start for a moment, then glance back to the house. «You're using your ability again.»

«If we were going to be swarmed, there'd have been more than one of them,» Charles pointed out. «I think we can rule out my telepathy as the culprit.»

«I'm glad,» Erik thought, and meant it. «One less thing to worry about.»

«One more thing we've taken back,» Charles thought. «Come back in. You can't hold the line if you're not rested.»

«I'm just going to make one more circuit and then I'll be in,» Erik promised, feeling out along the fencing.

«Erik... perhaps you haven't thought through the implications of this, but I'm reading your mind. You can't tell me a bald-faced lie and expect me to believe it.»

Erik stopped in his tracks. «It's a fair point,» he admitted. «Give me ten more minutes to check over the east side of the grounds again.»

«All right.»

He checked the weak point where the zombie had come in, where the trees were so tall it was easy to vault over the fence. Easy, if you didn't care which of your bones broke on the way down; if you wouldn't even notice if you were dragging a useless leg behind you. It'd been like that for the zombie who attacked Raven; after they'd gotten her to safety, they'd come back for its body. It had attacked Raven with a broken ankle and a compound fracture in its leg, injuries it hadn't even felt. Injuries that hadn't slowed it down, not in time to matter.

He'd reinforced that section, but it didn't feel like enough. It couldn't be. Erik wove improvised barbed wire through the trees, but there was only so much he could do tonight.

«Only so much, and you've done it. Come to bed.»

«I'm on my way.»

Charles was already under the covers by the time Erik got inside, a candle lit at his bedside. Their power resources were still in good condition-- not only that, Alex was regenerating power faster than ever, exhausted for only a few minutes after each recharging burst, rather than the hour or so it had been to start with. All the same, no reason to waste power unnecessarily. Erik took a few moments to wash up before bed and then came back into the bedroom, stripping at the bedside, climbing in beside Charles.

"We're close," Charles whispered, curling into Erik's arms. "We nearly have it. I keep expecting to hear Hank yell ' _Eureka!_ ' in my head."

"Are you listening in?" Erik murmured. "Doing extra work when you should be resting your mind?"

"I can't help it," Charles admitted. "Now that we know it wasn't me, I want to be there every second I can. I might see something Hank missed--"

"You might miss something yourself, if you aren't getting enough sleep. Rest, Charles." Erik held him tightly. "How's Raven?"

"She's doing better. She could sit up today. We talked a little, mind-to-mind."

"The infection's really gone?"

"Every bit of it. We've been thorough enough testing she winces whenever she sees a needle, but we're sure."

"Then two of us are immune to the virus. That's better than I'd hoped."

"I wouldn't necessarily say immune. A dozen bites, and I'm not sure either of them would have survived. We were lucky it was only one each."

"Lucky." Erik had witnessed both of them as they were infected; luck was not how he would have described it.

"They're both alive," Charles reminded Erik, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "So are we."

Erik turned, facing Charles, touching his nose to Charles's. "So we are," he murmured. "If we find that cure, this might all be over soon."

"We'll need more resources to produce enough to cure the population. And some of them may be too far gone to save. But yes. I think we'll be able to reach some of them."

"I'm with you," Erik whispered. "Whatever happens."

"We're with each other," Charles promised him, and he tilted his face up for a kiss.

Erik was only too eager to give it to him. Kissing felt like _life_ after all this death, renewal after all the devastation. Kissing Charles felt like finding his place again, after a lifetime of running, of hunting, of chasing one small piece of vengeance after another.

«I'm with you,» Erik thought, his tongue stroking into Charles's mouth. Charles took in a breath out of surprise, but quickly leaned in to kiss Erik back, just as hard and deeply. «For all of it.»

«For all of it, yes,» Charles thought back, shoving the covers aside, crawling on top of Erik again. Erik stroked his hands down Charles's back, rocking up against him. Charles slipped a hand between them, wrapped his hand around both their cocks. «My fingers aren't as long as yours, but...»

Erik could only gasp, trying desperately to thrust into Charles's hand. «I've no complaints about your fingers,» he sent back. Charles stroked them, and then brought his hand to his mouth and licked his palm, enough to get it slick. When he took them in hand again, Erik collapsed into his pillow and let himself feel it, gave himself over to the sensation.

«How this feels to you... there aren't _words_ , Erik,» Charles thought, stroking faster, his fingers moving just right against Erik's cock. «I can feel everything, all of it, your pleasure, how much you like it that it's _me_ touching you, how much you wanted this... give it to me, Erik, come for me, I want you to...» He hesitated for a moment, though he didn't lose the rhythm. «May I... I want to make this even better for you, would you let me do that?»

Erik suspected Charles didn't mean a different way of touching them. He nodded anyway, though, sending a clear «Yes» to Charles's mind.

And something inside his mind opened up, a warmth that made him glow through his entire body. It felt like nothing ever had before; it felt like coming and making love all at once. It felt like sunrise, like dew on bright green grass... it felt like the ocean, rolling over him in endless waves of pleasure, dragging him away from shore, away from what he'd always thought was _safety_.

He'd trusted Charles in the water before. Now he could make the _choice_ to do it, throw himself into Charles's arms, let Charles hold onto him and be his lifeline.

« _Yes_ ,» he thought again, letting Charles have him, putting himself into Charles's hands. Charles gasped, bending down to kiss him, his mouth warm on Erik's, drawing them into all these new sensations _together_.

Erik could feel it, feel _everything_ ; it was like having every atom in his body charged, everything sensitized, and Charles was bringing up spark after spark for him. Maybe it wasn't his body at all anymore-- maybe it was all in his mind, in _their minds_ , maybe Charles was making love to Erik with his _ability_ and not just his body.

He pushed another « _Yes_ » forward, as loud and forceful as he could, his mouth dropping open as Charles struggled to lift up, to look at him. «This, I want this, _you_ , all of this, all of _you_ , your mind your power _show me, Charles_ , show me who you are, _all of who you are_ \--»

Charles threw his head back, gasping, the pleasure so bright it nearly drove Erik to tears-- and as Charles's hand worked them harder, that pleasure nearly brought tears to his eyes, too. But God, _God_ , Charles could have been across the room, across the _country_ , Charles could have been anywhere at all, Erik didn't _need_ their bodies to feel this close to him, he only needed _Charles_. He reached up anyway, his hands moving to Charles's shoulders, to his neck, his face, touching everything. He caressed Charles's temples, so often the seat of all that power, and when Charles's eyes fluttered closed, Erik leaned up, dragged Charles down into another kiss.

«I love you,» rang out, through both their minds, but Erik was sure this time that he'd said it first. Charles gasped, and the pleasure spiked, holding Erik into place, still and helpless against it, able to do nothing but hold onto Charles and hope the joy of it didn't drive him completely mad.

He was _everywhere_ , everything, seeing every mind in the mansion at once, all but a blank smudge that was Darwin. He could feel everything, the nails in the walls and the hinges on the door, the bedframe, the window casings, the faucet in the bathroom. He was mind and body, telepathy and metallokinesis, and he could feel the iron in Charles's blood, the tiny electric impulses in his own brain, every thought that made him _Erik_ , every element that made him _Charles_. He was himself and he was Charles and he was Erik and they were _one_ , complete, hearts beating hard in unison, breath caught up between them as it all overflowed and spilled over the edges, Charles's hand the least of all the things sending Erik spiralling toward climax, dragging Charles along with him.

They were entirely filthy with it when it was over, stuck together, even, but Erik just held onto Charles, nuzzling his throat, whispering small sounds that were nowhere near becoming words. Even his mind was blank, as calm as it had ever been, his entire world wrapped up in Charles and contentment.

Charles rested his head on Erik's shoulder, finally collapsing, and Erik pulled a sheet over them, willing to stay like this for as long as they could.

It might have been minutes later, or it might have been hours-- he couldn't know, had no idea how long they'd been making love. But Charles tipped his head up, and there was a bright flare of joy in him, something that Erik knew he hadn't created.

"What...?"

Charles's eyes were far away for a long, long time-- and then they filled, suddenly, and tears spilled over his cheeks. Erik's chest tightened, and he knew before Charles said it.

"Eureka."


	28. Chapter 28

Every test was clear. Every infected sample was safe. The combination of Darwin's blood, at the moment of infection, and Raven's blood, over the course of her body fighting off the venom, was exactly what they'd needed for a cure. Charles called for a meeting in the sitting room, where Hank was bleary-eyed but ecstatic. Darwin had slumped into a chair, looking equally exhausted, equally excited.

"We're sure about this," Moira said. "How sure are we?"

"As sure as it's possible to be without one of us becoming reinfected." Charles pushed the lab results at her, the blurry microscope photographs and the pages upon pages of data. "We have a cure. Now it's a matter of finding out how fast it needs to be administered to save people."

"But first and foremost we need _people_ ," Hank said. "So we're going to try using the miniaturized version of Cerebro to broadcast a safe location, somewhere we can meet people and gather them."

"Here?" Angel asked, one eyebrow raised. "Do we really want to broadcast our location like that? People might think Cerebro is an attack. If we tell them where we are... anyone who still has access to weapons, bombs, even nukes..."

"I don't think we need to worry about nuclear weapons," Charles said. "This is where we have power, water, shelter. I know there's a risk involved in offering space and protection to all comers, but I believe it's the right thing to do."

"If we get enough people, we can look into setting up housing for them away from the mansion. It would only fit so many people anyway," Darwin pointed out. "But we also have to brace for the possibility that the zombies are all that's left. That we won't get any response at all."

The room went quiet, everyone taking that to heart, recognizing what it meant for themselves. What it could mean for the rest of their lives.

Taine spoke first. "If the government managed to get anyone into bunkers, we could have survivors in Washington, in Colorado... a lot of places throughout the country. Agent MacTaggart, if you want to help me with the maps, maybe we can help Charles target places there are likely to be crowds of survivors."

"That's a good plan, thank you," Charles said, nodding. "Hank and I can work on extending our little Cerebro's range, but of course early on we'll be limited to only the area surrounding us."

"But that'll be enough to tell us whether there are people to find, at least," Hank added. "And those people-- anyone that's left needs us _right now_."

Sean nodded. "What's the word on extra collars, Hank?" He glanced over at Moira. "Moira's been helping me with the gun-- thanks for that, by the way," he said, smiling at her, "but if I could scream my way out of trouble, I'd be a whole lot happier."

"I've got one for Angel," Hank said, reaching into his lab coat pocket for it and then handing it over. Angel snapped it on immediately and breathed out a sigh of relief. "I'd still wear the parachute just in case, but--"

"I will," she promised. "But thank you. Now we've got airborne forces." She grinned.

"And I'm nearly done with one more. The next one's going to Charles, to help with the interference he picks up from zombie minds. I've cannibalized the helmet for this," he said, looking nervously at Erik, but when Erik merely nodded, he went on. "We were concerned that because of the particular effects the zombies have on Charles, a collar itself wouldn't be effective enough. So we've redirected some of the psionic-blocking material in order to-- hopefully-- dampen the impact of the zombies' minds."

"We've tested it, though, and it doesn't cut me off completely," Charles said, eyes fixed on Erik. "It's going to be all right. It just needs a small amount of refinement, but I can wear it."

"All right," Erik said quietly, while everyone else nodded.

Raven was frowning at Hank, though. "We need to make sure there's one for you," she pointed out. She was still weakened, but getting better practically by the hour; she'd started shifting form deliberately to see if it would help her heal any faster. "The rest of us were still okay with the zombies on our heels, but--" She looked down at his feet, where his bruises were nearly healed. "You couldn't even walk, when we got here. You need that collar, too."

"I'll take the one after Charles," Hank promised. "Now that we have a cure, I'll have a lot more time to work on the collars."

"Mine comes last," Darwin said. Alex glared at him. "If it comes down to it, I'm the one who's going to last the longest without help."

"Yeah, but--" Alex started. Darwin shook him off, and Alex crossed his arms over his chest. "If the zombies really do come for us, you need to be sure your mutation can fight off whatever they throw at us."

"My mutation got a workout before," Darwin reminded him. "I feel stronger than ever. Maybe now that the venom's been in my system, I'll shake it off that more easily."

"That's a lot of damn 'maybes' to bet your life on!"

"What else have we got?"

Again, the room fell into silence; Charles cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, please. We're going to have a great deal of work to do, especially if the best possible outcome occurs and we manage to find survivors. I suggest those of you on patrol duty go back to making the rounds outside-- when we start the search with Cerebro, we'll want _everyone_ outside except for myself and Hank, who'll be operating Cerebro. Those of you who aren't on patrol duty now, we've got a number of empty bedrooms that could be prepared for refugees, and the first-floor ballroom could be converted to a trauma center-- I don't think the people who come to us are going to be without their injuries. We're going to try this in an hour-- it's still early yet, it should give people as much daylight as they can in order to get to us."

"I haven't noticed any difference between their movements in daytime as opposed to night," Erik pointed out.

"No, but the survivors will be able to see what's out there and defend themselves more readily in daylight," Charles responded. "One hour, everyone. We've all got work to do."

It was a tone-- and a plan-- that brooked no argument. Everyone stood, breaking off into pairs or trios in order to start getting work done. As everyone but Charles and Erik filed out of the sitting room, Erik walked over to Charles.

"Are we ready for this?"

"Would we ever be?" Charles shook his head. "If we want to save anyone, we can't wait."

"No." Erik nodded. "I'll go and help with the trauma center. But if you need me--" He came close, wrapped his arms around Charles. "If anything happens, if you need me for anything... I'm going to take up position as close to the lab as possible. I want to be able to get to you if there's a problem."

"Thank you." Charles reached up and wrapped his arms around Erik's neck. "If we're lucky, all that will happen is we'll be looking at rebuilding humanity. Try and think of it like that."

"I think you're holding all the optimism at this point. We have the collars, we have a cure. We're..." He took a breath. "We're together, you and I. And we're back with our allies. I'm not sure I can spare more hope for anything else; that's all I could have asked for."

"It's a lot," Charles admitted. "But I'm ready to ask for more."

"Then I'll be with you." He looked down at Charles, and Charles tilted his face up. "I'm with you."

He kissed Charles then, and if he was running on the last traces of his optimism, at least there was this: Charles in his arms, Charles's belief surrounding them both.


	29. Chapter 29

Everyone was in position; they'd divided the grounds between them, and Erik was nearest to the lab, watching the forest to its rear and its flank.

He'd asked Charles to warn him before it started, and at just past ten o'clock, he felt Charles's mind stretching out to do just that. «We're ready, Erik.»

«I'm here,» Erik sent back. «If there's even a hint of trouble, of danger, I'm coming to the lab. You're my first priority. Don't forget it.»

The surge of affection he received from Charles was nearly enough to make him smile. Nearly. «I'm very flattered, but let's be honest; this probably won't reach anything at all. Still, better to be as prepared as possible. Hank did finish the work on my collar-- can you tell any difference?»

«None whatsoever,» Erik thought with relief. «You're wearing it now?»

«I am,» Charles confirmed. His thoughts took on a teasing tone as he added, «Now we match.»

Erik couldn't help a smile. «I'll look forward to seeing that, later. We'll have to find a mirror to stand in front of...»

«--why, Mr. Lehnsherr, those are some deliciously scandalous thoughts you're having. Or, well, you certainly think they're scandalous; believe me, I've read far more perverse things than that.»

His smile was rapidly threatening to become a laugh. «When today's call-out is over, maybe we can steal a few minutes together...»

«I hope so. But in the meantime...» A broadcast came over the walkie-talkie. "Everyone, this is Charles. Please check in, we're about to start."

"Angel on the rooftop. All clear."

"Sean at the front gate. All clear."

"Moira at the front gate, with Sean. All clear."

"Taine at the northwest side. All clear."

"Darwin at the north side. All clear."

"Alex at the northeast. All clear."

"Raven at the south. All clear by the satellite dish, cap'n."

"Erik by the laboratory building, due east. All clear."

"And there's Hank and me, in the lab. We're all clear as well. Starting the test in approximately twenty seconds. Stand by."

Erik counted it down in his head. At the end of the twenty-second count, there was another slight pause, and then he could hear it, in his head, the way he'd heard it every time when Charles used the smaller version of Cerebro.

«Don't be alarmed. My name is Charles Xavier. I'm an ally. I'm a mutant, a telepath. I lead a group of mutants who survived the infection. _We have found a cure._ If you need food, shelter, aid, we can help you. We're in Westchester, New York.» And Erik felt as much as saw the mansion, felt the lingering trace of a location on a map.

The message repeated. At the second repeat, Moira's voice came over the walkie-talkie. "For the record, I'm hearing that transmission. I assume that was intentional?"

Hank responded with, "I'm hearing it, too. It's intentional."

"Has it always been intentional?" Erik asked. It wasn't precisely a chill that ran through him, but there was something running up his spine, the hair at the back of his neck standing on end. "I heard him on the road..."

There was a pause, and then Hank's voice came over the walkie-talkie again, terse. "Stand by."

Charles's transmission cut off after the next repeat, even though Erik knew he'd intended to keep broadcasting for at least half an hour. Erik closed his eyes, focused his mind on Charles as firmly as he could. «Charles. Talk to me.»

The answer was as terse as Hank's. «Stand by, Erik.»

«I'm _standing_ right here--»

A burst of static came through the walkie-talkie. "This is Angel on the rooftop. I've got movement."

"It's too soon for that," Moira said. "It can't be survivors."

Erik drew in a deep breath. "Then we know what it is." «Charles...»

A crashing sense of understanding and despair washed over Erik before Charles responded in words. «Erik. Erik, that's what it was. All this time. It wasn't just my ability, it was--»

«--Cerebro,» Erik finished for him, nodding, already stretching out his awareness through all the metal he could. «Charles-- I know this isn't what you want to hear from me right now, but... the helmet. Can you put it back together?»

«It's in pieces,» Charles thought at him, «it's not coming back together.» There were a dozen emotions swirling through those words: resentment, relief, guilt, anger. But beyond that, acceptance. «Now we know. Now we find out what the bloody range on this machine is.»

«Miles,» Erik thought, gritting his teeth. «You used it at night, it wasn't until morning that they caught up to us. Six hours' walk...»

«At their pace,» Charles reminded him. «Apparently there were zombies far nearer here. Or the ones here are faster.»

«Either way, maybe it's better to have flushed them out now, before we have real survivors coming in.»

Charles sent a surprised sense of agreement, almost a mental nod, in response. "Angel, report, please," he said over the walkie-talkie. "Where are you seeing movement?"

There was still nothing, not in any of the metal Erik could reach. But he didn't have an aerial view, and he held his breath waiting for Angel's report.

"Angel on the rooftop. Inbound at the front gate. I'm going to fly up, see if I can tell how far they're coming from."

"Standing by," Moira said, calm and even. Erik looked up; overhead, he could see Angel, circling and circling. "Any estimate on how many?"

"I count six at the front gate. More movement at the south and southeast-- Raven, are you seeing that?"

"I see something, I'm not sure what. I'm ready."

"Shit, and something out by Erik's position. Can't tell what, it's just trees moving, bushes. Everybody brace yourselves, though. The movement's fast."

"We're going to have our hands full here at the gate," Moira warned. "We'll check in as soon as we can. Angel, let us know if there are more."

"Taine here, I'm moving south to back Raven up."

"Raven here. Copy that, thank you."

Up above, Angel swooped towards the front gate-- the opposite end of the grounds from Erik-- and disappeared from sight. There was a whoop over the walkie-talkie, though: Sean, voice full of relief. "Angel and Moira got all six of them," he said. "Front gate's clear."

"Two here!" Raven called out. "Stand by!"

Erik was watching the woods to the east, ready to jerk the metal up and shove caltrops through the zombies at a moment's notice. _Trees moving, bushes._

"Almost there," Taine called.

Again, Angel swooped down, but this time Erik could see her: acid spit flying, a fast bank up so she was climbing into the air again. Raven's voice came over the walkie-talkie. "All clear here, Angel got 'em both. Thanks for saving us the ammo, Angel."

"Any time," Angel said. "Not bad, guys. So far so good."

Erik held his breath. The bushes were moving, close enough he could see them now. He spun the caltrops up into the air. Too much movement for it to be only one, too fast for them to be human zombies-- he held his breath as one caltrop embedded into something, the motion stilled, and then another, and another...

Electricity arced through the fence, and the stink of dead flesh burning made Erik's eyes water, made his stomach turn. He felt out for the fence anyway, tried to sense how many of them were throwing themselves against the electric current. Enough weight to be two... no, three... God, the _stench_ from them...

«Erik, I'm with you. I'm with you, _hold on_ ,» Charles thought, bringing Erik right back to the present moment. «Hold that line. They won't come forever!»

"Angel again. I've got movement in the north. Darwin, watch yourself."

"Got it. I see it. Here it comes."

 _Here it comes_ , only it wasn't just Darwin's zombie moving. It was the fence, a huge part of it on this side, sagging and groaning against the zombies' weight. Erik jerked the caltrops up and forward, where he felt the weight pulling against the fence most, but it only served to slow them, not stop them altogether.

He had a sudden inane wish that he'd taken a few moments in the hardware store to gather up rotary saw blades, and then the wires in the fence began to snap, the electricity cutting off. As soon as Erik felt the last of them go, he gathered up as much of the fencing as he could and drew it back, into the open, so he could _see_ them when they came.

And they came. Two of them were still smoking from the electric fence, their muscles twitching as they tried to move forward-- if they'd been fast, they weren't now. But the third was coming at him in a dead run, and Erik threw the fencing at it, wrapping its body in coil after coil of metal. A fast, ugly twist, and the zombie flew apart in pieces, leaving Erik to deal with the other two.

"We have a perimeter breach at Erik's position by the lab," Charles's voice came through the walkie-talkie again. "Anyone who doesn't have his hands full, please head east."

"A little busy!" came Raven's voice.

"Full up--" Sean, and then his transmission was over. Above, the sound of Angel's wings, zooming past Erik toward Sean and Moira.

"With Darwin," Alex said, "got more here--" His signal cut out abruptly; Erik could only hope it was because he was fighting. Erik himself was ready to fight again; he was untangling the wire he'd used on the first zombie and reshaping the caltrops into a crude rotary blade as he stepped back. The two zombies were coming for him-- and as they took step after step, their muscles seemed to shake off the involuntary contractions from the electric fencing, and they came faster and faster.

Erik shot the blade at the first, but the blade stuck in the zombie's neck, only causing it to stumble a little. The second, he had better luck with; he wrapped the wire around its neck, again and again, and _pulled_. It was several steps, it seemed, before the zombie realized its head was missing; when it tripped and fell forward, its head rolled away from its body.

But the first was nearly on him, and Erik backed up more, jerking with all his power at the blade in its neck.

«Erik--!»

Not like this. It couldn't end like this. The zombie stretched out its arms for him, and Erik gritted his teeth, dropped to one knee as he dragged the blade through the zombie's neck, tendon and muscle stubbornly hanging on. The blade was so dull, he hadn't had time to hone that edge, and it was costing him now-- God, it was going to cost him--

«We have a cure. Get it out here, you're going to need it,» Erik thought to Charles, and then, «I love you--»

« _No!_ »

The word was so bright and loud in Erik's mind that he put both hands to his head, shouting. But if it was loud to him, what it did to the zombie was worse: the zombie put its hands to its ears, and then it fell backwards in a spray of gore. Erik covered his face with his arm as wet chunks fell, then looked up again to see the zombie twitching on the ground, its feet kicking. Its head was-- whatever had happened, it had happened from inside, and it had left the zombie as a putrified, mostly-headless horror.

Erik stared down at it, eyes wide. When Charles's voice rang through his head again, he winced.

«Erik? _Erik!_ Move away, you have to _fall back_ \--»

«Charles? Was that you? My God, Charles, what did you _do_ \--»

«Something we all need to hope to God I can do again!» Charles shoved an image into his mind: Angel's view of the east side, crawling with zombies, the rest of the ones in the immediate region funneling there, where the fencing was breached. « _Fall back!_ »

Erik shoved himself away from the still-twitching zombie and ran for the laboratory, grabbing for his walkie-talkie. "I'm falling back to the lab," he shouted. "The east side's lost, I'm going directly to the laboratory to defend from there!"

"Alex!" Hank's voice. "We need you here, we need _power_ \--"

"He's not leaving Darwin," Charles's voice cut in, faint, as though Hank simply hadn't let the transmit button go. And then the mental broadcast came through, loud and clear: «EVERYONE. FALL BACK TO THE LABORATORY NOW. ALEX, GET HERE. TELL DARWIN TO GET YOU HERE _RIGHT NOW_.»

Erik ran, full speed, knowing what was following him and not letting himself think about it, not letting himself look back. He kept caltrops spinning in the air behind him, a shield between him and whatever might come. As he approached the lab, everything went suddenly dark-- all the lights that had been on, everything that had been running, all of it was gone now. Even the hum from Hank's generator was silent now, the air filled only with the groans and screams of the zombies.

He shoved out at the door, hurling himself inside, slamming the door shut with his power. _Charles_ , he had to get to Charles--

In the lab, Charles and Hank were frantically working on Cerebro, Hank's power-collecting dish laid out on the table beside them. Only a few windows lit the room, and it was dim, barely enough light to see by. Charles's nose was bleeding, a smear of it wiped across his cheek and hand, but the flow hadn't stopped, and there was no time to care for it now. Charles didn't even look up; he simply shoved information into Erik's head, all at once, fast enough and deep enough to make Erik stagger.

«I'm sorry, my friend, but we need you to--»

Erik came forward at a run, staring down at the components laid out before them. «Yes,» he thought, «yes, I see.»

"Hank, step back," Charles said, and Erik spread his hands wide, focusing on every wire, every connection, every place that needed a new piece of solder or a tiny screw undone. The meaning behind it, the inner workings: none of that mattered to Erik. What mattered was the picture Charles had put in his head, and the simple knowledge that putting everything together was _urgent_.

Behind him he heard the door slam open, Darwin yelling out, "I've got him, he's here!"

"Thank God, get him over here-- Alex, charge up, you need to give it everything you've got when we tell you, okay?"

Raven's voice crackled over the walkie-talkie. "Taine's down! I'm coming in, get those doors _open_!"

The next voice was Angel's. "Sean and Moira are both down, oh God--"

"Get _in_ , Angel!" Raven yelled. "We have the cure, we'll come back for them, get in the goddamn _lab_!"

"No, wait-- I see you, get ready to jump, I'll get us to the roof!"

"Come get me--"

Wires moved, melted, fixed in place; solder joined pathway to pathway. Circuits completed themselves under Erik's hands, the picture nearly what Charles had given him in the first place. A thump rang against the door, and Darwin ran off while Alex screamed for him to stop. Nearly there, nearly what Charles had wanted-- Erik had never moved so many tiny things at once before, never painted a new picture and new pathways out of micron-thick silver and copper. It was technology he'd never seen before, but somehow _understood_ , and as he shifted piece after piece, he could see how parts of it were _wrong_ , parts of it needed to be _changed_.

He didn't ask; he just did it, wiring it up the way his power and his newly-imprinted expertise told him to do. When it was done, he sagged back, nodding to Charles. "It's ready," he panted. "Can you--" He looked at Charles's bloody nose, remembered the way his ears had bled at Frost's mental death scream. "Can you--"

"Yes," Charles said, jamming the skullcap from Cerebro back onto his head. "Because there's _no other option_ , Erik."

Erik grabbed him by the sweater vest, dragged him close. "No time," he said. "Take _everything_."

Charles's eyes went wide, but then he grabbed Erik and dug _in_ \-- his mind too fast and desperate to be subtle, the powerful grasp of Charles's telepathy sinking into Erik's thoughts and memories all at once and all in an instant. Erik's memories, everything, all those years of pain and fear, and the way it felt to be pulled up from the water and into the light. The farmhouse kitchen where he'd taken what felt like the biggest risk of his life; the farmhouse bedroom where he'd realized that any risk was worth it. Charles, in the car, demanding Erik say the words aloud, in case it was the only chance he'd have to hear it with his ears _and_ his mind, and Erik's sense of terror that he might lose Charles now, his frantic willingness to do _anything_ to protect him.

Their time here, together, and Erik's tentative, quiet need to call this place _home_ ; his urge to build a _future_ , when he'd never believed in a moment past the present, a need for anything past revenge.

«I love you,» Erik sent, layering it on top of all the rest.

«I love you,» Charles thought back at him. «I'm holding you to _all_ of that.»

«You'd damn well better.»

It'd been all of a split-second, all of that passing between them at the speed of thought, and Erik staggered back, leaving Hank to finish up with Alex and letting Charles brace himself against the table, as ready for this as he was going to get.

"They pick up our broadcasts," Charles muttered, "let's have them pick up _this_ one."

The pounding from the door was getting louder and louder. From here, Erik heard Darwin's furious shout, his startled cry, and then his words, angry and loud: " _I couldn't hold it, they're coming_ \--"

"Darwin!" Alex yelled, nearly breaking away from Hank, but Hank held him still, shoved him until he was pointed at the energy-collection device.

"Help him like this," Hank said, shaking Alex hard. "Help _all of us_! Give it _everything_!"

Alex faced the cone, but shook his head. "I can't, I can't get it-- they're too close--"

Erik whipped around to face the door. He shoved everything he could get hold of toward it, barricaded it with tables, desks, chairs, filing cabinets, and then he grabbed for his collar, wrenching it off his throat. "Here," he growled, striding forward, snapping the collar onto Alex. "Take this, _do it_ \--"

"Oh, God." Alex took a deep breath. "Okay, oh God, okay, I can feel it, _hang on_ \--"

He tightened both fists, and the whole room glowed red as Alex truly, maybe for the first time in his life, set his power free.

The frenzied adjustment and rewiring had done its job; the full brunt of Alex's power surged into Hank's device, and from there, into Cerebro, lighting it up so quickly that Charles's eyes snapped open, his back arched. But Charles didn't hesitate: he slammed both hands down on the table, shutting his eyes again, his nose bleeding freely now as he gritted his teeth and screamed out a sound that shook Erik to the core. It sounded like agony, but it was more than just pain; it was _death_ , a rattle in the bones, a promise and a threat, the full power of Charles's ability as terrible as it was glorious.

The scream went on and on, and Erik stepped over, looked to the windows, to the flood of zombies surrounding the lab. The zombies had been climbing on each other, climbing up the walls, trying to get to the window, but now they'd stopped, all of them clutching at their heads, pitching to the ground writhing.

It wasn't just one of them; it was all of them at once, and Erik didn't need to be told that it was every zombie mind that Charles could reach. And it wasn't the quick explosive death that had met the zombie outside; this was slow, burrowing through what was left of their brains, shredding the insides of their heads and leaving their rotten blood to spill from their ears, their noses, eyes, mouths.

Erik's ears rang with the sound of it, inside and out-- Charles's scream echoed in his mind long after Charles had lost the breath to make that cry. But as the zombies who surrounded the lab convulsed and died, Charles swayed backward, and Erik barely had time to catch him before he collapsed altogether, the lights on Cerebro blinking out one by one.

Hank ran over as Erik lowered Charles to the floor. "Charles?"

" _Charles!_ " Erik pressed his fingers against the side of Charles's neck. He felt a pulse; faint, fluttering under his fingers, but _there_. "Charles-- please--"

«...I'm here,» Charles thought, his words floating to Erik's mind, strangely giddy and yet strong enough to make Erik weak with relief. «I'm here, Erik. I know I don't look it, but... I'm fine...»

"Erik?" Hank whispered. "Erik, is he..."

"He's all right," Erik whispered back. "Or he thinks he is." He curved his palm against Charles's cheek. "You did it."

«I know.» Charles smiled, his eyes closing. «I think I'd like about a year of naps, now. I hope I can prevail on one of you to carry me back to bed...»

Erik laughed-- or he thought it was a laugh, but he felt weak all over, and his cheeks were wet. And after Charles's breathing had gone deep and even, after Hank and Alex pulled the barricade away from the door to haul Darwin inside, everyone stumbled over to Charles and Erik, Darwin safe and healthy, Alex's arms around his waist.

"We did it," Hank said. He glanced over to Erik, and when he eased Charles out of Erik's arms and lifted him up, Erik let himself stay on the floor for a few minutes, still laughing. He'd call it laughing.


	30. Chapter 30

Charles stretched his arms out over his head, catching the bedrails in his hands and pressing against them, stretching his legs and pointing his toes. He let out a long, long sigh of pleasure and relief as he stretched, and then, without opening his eyes, he rolled over toward Erik, snuggling warmly against Erik's chest.

Erik wrapped his arms around Charles and pulled him close. "You're up," he murmured.

«I'm not,» Charles protested, nuzzling Erik's neck. «What day is it?»

"I think it might be Tuesday. It's been two days since the attack."

«Tuesday,» Charles repeated in Erik's mind. «All right. Tuesday.» He paused, and then carefully asked, «The others...?»

"The cure worked. Moira, Sean, Taine-- we managed to treat all three of them. Raven and Angel were safe on the rooftop. If the zombies bit Darwin, he healed before any of the bites could take effect. You, me, Hank, Alex-- all fine."

"And the cure works," Charles said aloud, sighing as he rolled onto his back. "Thank God, Erik."

"Right now I'm more grateful to you and Hank and Darwin for the lab work."

Charles pried one eye open and looked over at Erik. "All right," he said at last. "You're welcome, then."

Erik drew his fingertips down Charles's arm. "You did well," he said softly. "I had no idea you were so..."

Charles flinched a little. "Dangerous?" he filled in.

"Versatile," Erik offered lightly. He curled his body around Charles's, resting his cheek on top of Charles's head. "I hope between you and Hank and Darwin, you'll find a less taxing way to accomplish what you did."

"I hope so, too," Charles groaned. "We'll save this for dire emergencies. In the meantime, surely we can make do with shotguns and rotary saw blades and our abilities."

"A few rotary blades wouldn't go amiss," Erik conceded. "And if you--"

There was a knock at the door. "It's me," Raven called. "Are you decent?"

"No," Charles called back.

"Oh, well," Raven said, opening the door anyway, "I'm pretty sure I'll live." She nodded at Erik, who nodded back, crawling a little further under the covers. "Just wanted you to know," she told Charles, "we've got our first guests."

Charles and Erik exchanged a look, and Charles said, "Survivors?"

"Three of them. They're mutants-- one father, two girls. I thought you'd want to know."

"Absolutely. Would you go down and tell them I'll be down to meet them right away?"

"Yeah." Raven shot Erik an amused look. "Maybe I'll tell them ten minutes."

"Yes, thank you," Charles said, as Raven let herself back out. He grinned over at Erik. "Survivors. So we're really _not_ alone."

"It looks as though we're not."

"Hmm." Charles burrowed down under the covers, slipping to Erik's level, and climbed on top of him. "So it's going to get crowded around here."

"A good thing we're already using the space efficiently, then," Erik agreed. "You said you'd be down right away, Charles-- isn't it time to go and start leading this world we've saved?"

Charles grinned down at him. "Well," he said, slowly, carefully, "Raven's telling them ten minutes. I wouldn't want to be unfashionably early."

Erik laughed and put his arms around Charles, holding him close. "Ten minutes," he murmured. "And all the time in the world."

THE END.


End file.
